you, right?â I asked.
âNot unless he wants to hear about it from your dad
and
mine.â
âBecause his carâs not here.â
Garrett swore under his breath. âI hate when he pulls a Houdini. We
both
get in trouble, but guess whose dad is less forgiving.â
I flinched. Father had an impressive temper, but it flared hot and extinguished fast. Al Wardâs anger burned cold. âThey donât know. They think heâs off with you.â
âIâll go track him down. Can you cover for me?â
âOf course.â I mentally replayed my last conversation with Carter. There had to be something useful I could add to Garrettâs search. âHe went out last night. After â¦â My words trailed into a blush, and I looked at the pavers beneath my feet. âDidnât you go with him?â
âWhat? No. Whereâd he go?â
âI donât know. He just said he had to do somethingâthat he needed to do it right away, before he changed his mind.â
âChanged his mind?â Garrett said slowly. His face had gone grim.
âCould it be the people you shot at?â
âI didnât shoot at people. I shot the tires on a heaâa car. And no, theyâre not a threat.â
âOkay,â I said, but it lacked conviction.
âHey, princess, look at me. Heâs fine.â
I shivered despite the July humidity. If Carter were here heâd tease,
Someone walk over your grave, Pen?
I shivered again.
âFind him quickly, okay?â 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 shouldnât bruise and all I wanted was for him to do it over and over and over again. Make me forget Iâd woken up in a day that felt wrong. Father would kill him for these caressesâanother reason that it was better to
find Carter
than explain what made him so angry that heâd left Garrett behind.
âNo worrying,â he ordered.
I nodded; it was a nonverbal lie.
â
Weâll
see you soon,â he promised.
I nodded again and stood on the driveway as he drove away.
Iâd promised Garrett Iâd cover for him, but it would probably be wiser to hide. I headed to the clinic. I couldnât find answers about Carter there, but Iâd 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 laparoscopicâa liver maybe, or intestine? Something gray. He paused and minimized the screen. âBack so soon?â
âI have some bruises.â
âHow are you feeling?â 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.
âFine. Iâm sure itâs nothing.â I wished, hoped, prayed.
âYour mother sent you.â He exhaled into a smile.
âNo. I came on my own. She already worries too much, so please donât say anything.â
âLetâs see what weâve got here before I make any promises.âHe apparently also knew better than to pick sides in Landlow infightingâmaybe 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.
âUnknown cause? Or trauma?â
âTrauma.â If theyâd been nontraumatic discolorations heâd have marked the boundaries with penâlike I was some human game of connect the dotsâthen checked later to see if theyâd grown. âCar door and seat belt.â
His lips twitched slightly. âWho knew Carterâs driving was so dangerous? Those are the only ones? Any nosebleeds? Gums bleeding? Petechiae?â
âNone. Just these.â And an increasing feeling