In his sleep, he seems so young. So innocent. Dark stubble along a baby face. I should tell him what the Riot wants from me. He’s promised to love me through this. Maybe I can trust him like I did in the basement. Maybe this time he’s choosing me.

My hands continue to tremble. I’m wired and I’m parched. Careful not to wake Chevy, I roll out of bed, pull his T-shirt over my head and slip on my jeans. The door to Nina’s room is closed and a pang of guilt hits me. I didn’t think about how she’d feel about me staying the night with her son. She’s awesome letting Chevy stay with me at Cyrus’s. No doubt she’s aware it’s in the same bed, but even awesome moms have limitations and I wonder if my being so overtly in her son’s bed while she’s home has crossed the line.

I sigh as I add that to the list of things I need to find time to worry about tomorrow.

The kitchen is off the living room and the small light over the oven casts a glow over two lumps. Oz is asleep, sprawled out on the recliner, Razor on the floor. Either of them would crush the small couch if they had tried to sleep on it.

Razor’s eyes pop open as I pad into the kitchen, and from the moving of blankets, I can tell he’s following. I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. Razor walks in, combing his fingers through his blond hair, and I have to admit, he’s cute rumpled. I also have to admit, he’s never been my type.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Bad dream.”

“That I get.” He props himself up to sit on the counter. A few weeks ago, he lived out a different type of nightmare with the girl he loves.

“When did you guys come in?” I ask.

“Chevy texted us after you fell asleep and told us to let ourselves in. Floor’s a lot better than sitting on my bike all night.”

“I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“Don’t be. Feels good to be doing something for you two instead of sitting on my hands feeling helpless.”

“Helpless sucks,” I say.

This time Razor nods and then he gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Considering he’s been my best friend since the age of dinosaurs, I lift my fingers in a bring-it motion.

He rubs the back of his head, then crosses his arms over his chest like he feels naked. “I notice you sat with Addison at school today. Has she said anything about me? About Breanna?”

It’s awful that it happens. Terrible. It’s the worst thing a best friend can do, but the smile on my face is too large and I can’t quite swallow the entire laugh. Razor lowers his head and mutters a curse and I do my best to sober up.

“I’m sorry,” I choke through another swallowed laugh. “I couldn’t help it. It’s just that I was kidnapped and now I’m home and there’s all this crap and all everyone wants to talk about with me is the Riot and then you ask something that’s just so...”

“Pathetic,” he adds.

I lose the smile and my heart is heavy for him. “No. Your question was just so...eighteen. Sometimes I forget we’re only eighteen.”

“Seventeen for you,” he says, and I don’t disagree because there’s no point.

“To answer your question, yes, she talked about you. She thinks you’re Satan because Breanna’s no longer in town.”

He bobs his head like her assessment might be right. “You’re friends with Addison now?”

“We shared French fries and a lunch table. Considering how the rest of the school has treated me, that’s the closest I’ve got to a friend.”

“I’m your friend.” He offers a sly smile.

“God help my soul.”

He chuckles in agreement. “Think you can put in a good word for me with Addison? Breanna loves her and someday she’ll be back in town. When that happens, I want to fit as good as I can in her life. The best friend is a good place to start.”

Yeah, best friends can make or break any relationship. “I’ll do my best, but keep in mind I’m all out of miracles. I used them all up in that basement.”

“Your best is all I need.” He hops down from the counter, and before he leaves, he glances at me from over his shoulder. “When you’re ready to talk about what really happened between you and the Riot, I want you to know I’m around.”

The way his blue eyes bore into me makes me uneasy and now I’m the one wrapping my arms around myself. “Eli talked to you, right?”

He nods his head once.

“Then you know everything.”

“As I said, when you’re ready to spill on what really happened, I’m here.” And with that, he leaves me alone with my glass of water and my scattered thoughts.

CHEVY

ELI AND CYRUS showed at six with six cups of coffee, a box of donuts and the truck to take Violet home to get ready for school. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I’ve run out of reasons to hide in my room. My grandfather is waiting and he’s waiting in my mother’s home. Hell must have frozen over last night.

Cyrus is sitting at the kitchen table, his coffee in his hand as he stares at the fridge. Mom covered it in artwork from me as a kid, pictures of the two of us through the years and a list of emergency numbers in case I need help. All of them are friends of hers and none of them Reign of Terror. She tries, but I’ve never let her run the Terror from my life.

I find a clean glass in the dishwasher, pull out orange juice from the fridge, pour, return it, then lean against the counter. Cyrus watches me, and I watch him. Feels like the few seconds before someone yells charge on enemy territory.