Free Hold Me Like a Breath by Tiffany Schmidt Page B

you, right?” I asked.
    â€œNot unless he wants to hear about it from your dad
and
mine.”
    â€œBecause his car’s not here.”
    Garrett swore under his breath. “I hate when he pulls a Houdini. We
both
get in trouble, but guess whose dad is less forgiving.”
    I flinched. Father had an impressive temper, but it flared hot and extinguished fast. Al Ward’s anger burned cold. “They don’t know. They think he’s off with you.”
    â€œI’ll go track him down. Can you cover for me?”
    â€œOf course.” I mentally replayed my last conversation with Carter. There had to be something useful I could add to Garrett’s search. “He went out last night. After …” My words trailed into a blush, and I looked at the pavers beneath my feet. “Didn’t you go with him?”
    â€œWhat? No. Where’d he go?”
    â€œI don’t know. He just said he had to do something—that he needed to do it right away, before he changed his mind.”
    â€œChanged his mind?” Garrett said slowly. His face had gone grim.
    â€œCould it be the people you shot at?”
    â€œI didn’t shoot at people. I shot the tires on a hea—a car. And no, they’re not a threat.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, but it lacked conviction.
    â€œHey, princess, look at me. He’s fine.”
    I shivered despite the July humidity. If Carter were here he’d tease,
Someone walk over your grave, Pen?
I shivered again.
    â€œFind him quickly, okay?” I whispered.
    Garrett touched my cheek with the tip of his pointer finger, tracing the curve from chin to ear. The touch was so light it shouldn’t bruise and all I wanted was for him to do it over and over and over again. Make me forget I’d woken up in a day that felt wrong. Father would kill him for these caresses—another reason that it was better to
find Carter
than explain what made him so angry that he’d left Garrett behind.
    â€œNo worrying,” he ordered.
    I nodded; it was a nonverbal lie.
    â€œ
We’ll
see you soon,” he promised.
    I nodded again and stood on the driveway as he drove away.
    I’d promised Garrett I’d cover for him, but it would probably be wiser to hide. I headed to the clinic. I couldn’t find answers about Carter there, but I’d ask some about myself.

Chapter 7
    Dr. Castillo was watching a video of a surgery on his computer when I knocked on the open door of his office. It looked like something laparoscopic—a liver maybe, or intestine? Something gray. He paused and minimized the screen. “Back so soon?”
    â€œI have some bruises.”
    â€œHow are you feeling?” He stood and pulled his glasses from the pocket of his white coat, fitting them on the bridge of his wide nose and magnifying his brown eyes.
    â€œFine. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I wished, hoped, prayed.
    â€œYour mother sent you.” He exhaled into a smile.
    â€œNo. I came on my own. She already worries too much, so please don’t say anything.”
    â€œLet’s see what we’ve got here before I make any promises.”He apparently also knew better than to pick sides in Landlow infighting—maybe that was a Family rule, not just a Ward one.
    I offered my left hand, used the other to brush my hair back, and tilted my neck. He inspected both bruises while I compared his healthy bronze skin to my bone-china pallor.
    â€œUnknown cause? Or trauma?”
    â€œTrauma.” If they’d been nontraumatic discolorations he’d have marked the boundaries with pen—like I was some human game of connect the dots—then checked later to see if they’d grown. “Car door and seat belt.”
    His lips twitched slightly. “Who knew Carter’s driving was so dangerous? Those are the only ones? Any nosebleeds? Gums bleeding? Petechiae?”
    â€œNone. Just these.” And an increasing feeling