Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

I squinted at him.

“I thought you might be overwhelmed and want some help. So I called in a favor at Joe’s and they towed your truck to the shop.”

“And why didn’t you text me?” I hissed out, trying to stay angry, though it was hard when he was being so…so…reasonable.

“I did.” Richard looked confused. “Did you not get it?”

“Of course I didn’t fucking get it.” I yanked my phone out of my pocket, pulled it open, and showed him my inbox to demonstrate.

“Oh,” Richard said, frowning. “But it’s…I mean. It’s right here?” He pushed my phone back toward me, tapping at the screen.

“What do you mean it’s—” I blinked, then frowned, face scrunching up. Because there was a text from Richard. Sitting right there. Already opened. Right above the automated one I’d just received.

“But I—” I pulled it closer, confused. “But I don’t…I didn’t?—”

And then I remembered. Because of fucking course. Mutt and I had been trying to watch something on my phone and I’d kept getting texts—so I’d swiped them all away and I just…fuck. Fuck. Okay.

Okay, this was my fault.

This was totally my fault.

Because of course it was.

It always was.

Everything was always my fucking fault.

And here I was screaming at Richard when his only sin was doing the right thing—and I was just—I was just?—

I couldn’t breathe.

I’m a bad person.

I’m a bad person.

This is like the party all over again.

“Are you okay?” Richard asked, because he was a fucking saint. He looked so ridiculously concerned, standing next to me, his pale hair glinting. We looked like idiots just standing here without the light on.

At least, I did.

It weirdly…suited him now that he was all fangy and could see in the dark.

It didn’t escape my notice that this was the first time Richard and I had been alone since I’d come back to Elmwood. But my head was spinning too hard to properly react.

Before, having him here would’ve made me nervous and anxious—terrified he’d see the five bolt locks on my door and know just how paranoid I really was. That I wasn’t right in the head—because I wasn’t. But…weirdly enough, I couldn’t muster up the energy to be upset. Or to hide. Or to push him out.

Couldn’t even lie.

I just…sagged.

Numb for all of two seconds before ice filled my veins.

I need Mutt.

I need Mutt.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m not fucking okay.”