Page 47 of Corpse Roads
“Goldilocks? You awake?”
I’m still staring at the scrawled list when Leighton trails into my bedroom. He stops at the end of the bed, noting the paper clutched in my hands.
“Harlow?”
My eyes snap up to his. “Yes?”
“Are you… erm, alright?” His brows draw together in a worried frown. “I mean, you don’t look alright. Like, at all.”
My fist closes around the piece of paper before he can spot the names. Blood is pumping through me so fast, I feel dizzy with the steady, relentless throb. It’s an endless taunt.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
A hand brushes my shoulder, startling me from my daze. I shoot upright so fast, my knees crumple. Leighton catches me halfway down to the thick carpet.
“Woah, easy.”
My hand bunches in the soft material of his blue t-shirt. He wraps his arms around me as we both fall backwards onto the neatly made bed.
“Harlow?” Leighton repeats urgently.
“Sorry,” I stumble out. “Lost m-my balance.”
He doesn’t loosen his grip on my body. “Don’t scare me like that, Goldilocks. What’s on the piece of paper?”
Forcing myself to relax, I lean into his embrace. He smells like a tantalising cocktail of lemon and lime, the fragrances clinging to his overgrown hair. I love the way it spills over his ears without a care in the world.
“The past,” I answer quietly. “Are they back yet?”
“Nope.” Leighton shifts, still keeping one arm around me. “Enzo texted to check in on us though.”
“It’s been days since Hunter left.” I bite my lip so hard, blood leaks into my mouth. “What’s he waiting for? I thought he wanted to… you know, interrogate me.”
“They’re snowed under with some urgent operation. I wouldn’t worry. The longer Hunter’s away, the better for all of us.”
I glance up at him. “Why don’t you two like each other?”
“It’s complicated.” He shrugs, his eyes straying away. “Shall we watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”
“You’re always bored.”
Leighton smirks. “I spent all morning setting Hunter’s stationary in jelly. The stapler’s taking a while to set.”
“Wait, what?”
He finally stands, stretching his arms up so high, his t-shirt rides up. My throat suddenly tightens. I can see a flash of his firm, washboard abs, covered by a carpet of soft fuzz.
“You know, like the scene in The Office? He’s been a dick recently. It’s only fair.”
I make myself look away from the slither of skin that’s setting my pulse rate high. Leighton’s been my only company for the last few days as I’ve rested up, alternating between napping, showering, and choking down protein shakes with pain meds.
He loves physical affection, which took some getting used to. I wasn’t prepared when he brought me a grilled cheese the other day and climbed into bed to chat while I ate.
The casual touches and whispers of motiveless affection were unnerving at first, but I’m slowly adjusting to Leighton’s constant need for assurance and attention. He’s a sweet person.