My Secret to Tell by Natalie D. Richards

Author:Natalie D. Richards
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc
Published: 2015-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Deacon is on the porch when I get back. He’s on his feet the second he sees my bike, and I can tell he’s surprised to see me.

He jogs into the yard, though it’s still pouring buckets. “You rode in this? Emmie, you’re soaked!”

Well, so is he now, but I’m shivering too hard to say so. I manage to hand him the note, which is pointless. Hardly any of it’s readable now, and I can tell by his confused face he has no idea what he’s looking at it.

“The guy who w-was talking to Chelsea l-left it while I was in the store. I-I think he was waiting for me.”

I’m shivering violently now. I don’t know if it’s from the rain or my nerves. Deacon’s white shirt clings in ways I’m too cold to fully appreciate, but I’m thankful when he takes the bags. “Get inside. We need to find you dry clothes.”

I’m stiff and slow getting up the porch steps, and managing the knob with my half-frozen fingers is nearly impossible. I stop just inside the door, dripping the Mississippi all over the sloping wooden floor. Deacon’s right behind me, shutting the door and dropping bags on the kitchen counter. I wince at the trail of water and mud he’s leaving behind him, but he obviously doesn’t care.

He heads to the single tiny bedroom, where I can see a sleeping bag and the backpack he grabbed from the boat shack. He finds a black shirt and a pair of boxer shorts I picked out and brings them out to me.

“I can’t read the numbers. Did he seem dangerous?”

“No.” I shudder. “B-but I don’t trust him. Why wouldn’t he have talked to me right there? Why wait until he could get me alone?”

“Children’s Services won’t conduct interviews like that in front of people. Too many privacy laws.” Deacon frowns, looking thoughtful. “Do you think he followed you here?”

“N-no. I took the long way. I was careful. I stopped once to try to call Joel. He didn’t pick up.”

“You stopped? In this?” His shoulders droop. “Emmie.”

Another wave of violent shivers hits, and he moves in, handing me the clothes so he can rub my arms with both hands.

“You’ve got to get warmed up,” he says. “Sorry I don’t have shorts, but the boxers are clean. There’s an old beach towel in the bathroom, and I think there’s propane in the tank. I can get the water heater going if you want.”

Warm water sounds divine. My thoughts cut off when he tugs his own sopping shirt over his head, hanging it over a rusty folding chair in the corner. I don’t know what they do to this boy on those boats, because he is nothing but carved abs and sinewy arms. It’s ridiculous.

If I take him up on that shower, he’ll be out here. Looking like this. While I’m naked in the bathroom. Yeah, there is just no way. No way.

I wrap my arms over my middle, and his face softens.

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