My gaze finds St. Clare again, standing on the other side of the lawn, closer to the house, and the second our eyes meet, he wrenches his away again. As much as I love that everyone showed up for me, I wish they’d hurry up and get moving so that I can ask him what’s wrong. Moody St. Clare isn’t a version of him that I’m used to.

He needs that spark of his back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ST. CLARE

The whole time Perry’s being tended to, the rest of us stand in a ring around him, watching every second. Sure, part of it is concern about him being a person, and he’s a person in pain, but it’s more than that. We all know he’ll be okay. There’s no reason to watch on.

But when it comes to Perry, he’s like this gravitational force, and we’re all floaty chunks of rock, stuck in his orbit.

Even me.

All I want right now is to disappear into the house and wait for everyone to leave, but my feet are planted on the ground, turned toward him, and I hate how much I’m tuned in to every grunt of pain.

So is Arlie.

If I’m not watching Perry, I’m glaring her way. There’s a bond between the two of them where she pretends not to be interested, and he watches her through big, puppy dog eyes. It’s sickening. No one is buying her disinterest because who the hell couldn’t be interested in Perry?

It takes way too long for them to clean him up, show us where everything is in the cabin, and then get the rundown on what happened since he left Lethal Poison.

I’m not at all surprised when Perry tells us he wanted to check in on Walter, and the fact it could have gotten him killed sits heavy with me. What if that bullet got his chest instead? We’ve both come way too close to dying lately, and I get the feeling that luck isn’t something we can keep relying on.

They leave in a car much nicer than Perry’s—no number plate draws my attention—and when they disappear and the silence kicks in, I’m conscious not to look Perry’s way again. Not even when Lars leaves to look around the property. I’m going to wedge distance between us whether I like it or not.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem on board with that plan.

I turn around and almost run right into him.

“Are you okay?”

Him asking me that when he’s the one who’s injured is … well, it’s Perry. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”