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

We were supposed to wear matching sweaters in the fall, dammit.

“He doesn’t need you,” I murmured to myself.

You’re just a pretty face, darling.

Who would take you seriously?

I didn’t want to look at my truck and its seats full of dog stuff, so I went to the one place in town that didn’t feel claustrophobic. It was a short walk, and the heat was welcome as I stepped around the cracks on the sidewalk, my head spinning.

Shaking and sick, the moment I arrived, I called Blair.

I just…I guess I just needed to hear his voice.

He picked up on the second ring and my heart was in my throat as I spoke. “Blair?” I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear as I fiddled with the joint I’d stashed in my pocket this morning. “How you doin’, bud?”

“Jeffrey!” Blair’s voice was only somewhat muffled, but then the sound cleared, like he’d stepped outside. “I’m good. What’s up?”

Play it cool.

Don’t let him know how fucked up you are.

“You wanna smoke?” My heart thumped unsteadily. “I still have one of the joints you gave me.”

Please say yes. I don’t want to be alone.

“Oh hell yes. Where are you at?”

“Our spot.”

Elmwood’s graveyard had quickly become our favorite hang out spot. It was peaceful here in a way most places weren’t. The quiet helped. And aside from the occasional caw of a crow, or chirp, chirp of a chickadee, the only thing that could be heard here was the whisper of the wind. Trees blocked the entrances, overgrown and unkempt, dripping needles to the ground and offering privacy.

The tombs felt like friends.

Sometimes I felt like I had more in common with the corpses than I did the living.

Blair and I had been here a grand total of two times since I’d moved back, which may not have seemed like a lot, but it was.

“I’ll be there in…” I heard more rustling, like Blair was checking the time. “Five minutes.”

“Cool.”

Ten minutes later—because Blair sucked at being on time—my wayward adoptive brother finally showed up.

“Surprise, motherfucker!” Tiny but solid arms wrapped around me from behind, pushing me out of my morose thoughts as the scent of apples filled my nose along with…I sniffed. Cheese? He nearly knocked me off of the tombstone I was sitting on, and I laughed, sliding to the ground with a thump, before twisting to greet him properly.

“Blair.” I gave him a tight squeeze at the back of his neck like I always did, before pulling back to beam at him. Already, I felt better. Things had been awkward between us, but so far this had been the best interaction we’d had since I’d joined him all the way across the country.

Blair took a step back, grinning wide and bright, the way he never used to before. He was dressed like he always was, head-to-toe black, though today he sported a floor-length vintage vampire cloak and the giant platform combat boots Richard, his boyfriend—my blood brother—had bought him.

He was more muscular now, though still bite-sized. He looked like an adult. Not the punk-ass kid I’d spent half my life protecting. He didn’t need that from me anymore. Though apparently he still wanted me around, despite that fact.

Blair looked good.

Full of life.

Way different than he had when we lived together in Oregon. Elmwood had done him a lot of good, even though he hadn’t had the scar across his nose and temple before coming here. It sucked honestly, that no matter how hard I tried I hadn’t been able to protect him from Lydia.

Each of his scars was a failure on my part, so looking at them hurt probably more than it should’ve. I could remember how he got each one. The days she’d grabbed him by the face, her nails biting in—and I’d bandaged him up and prayed they wouldn’t scar.