The Butterfly Code by Sue Wyshynski Read Free Book Online Page B

to myself, covering my stained eyelet blouse with its welcome heft. Instantly, I’m wrapped in his masculine scent—faint hints of cedar and leather and something spicy.
    "Are you done playing gentleman?" Gage asks.
    "Why? Did you need some assistance, too?"
    "Very funny. I thought you were leaving."
    "I am. You’re in my way."
    Gage’s fists tighten and his shoulders expand.
    What is with him? I know he was hurt in a military accident. But I don’t see what that has to do with Hunter. Does Gage hate all medical researchers now? Would he have hated Mom and her work in human genetics, if she were alive?
    They stand nose-to-nose, neither backing down.
    "Hey," snaps the barista. "Wanna clear my doorway so people can get in?"
    Reluctantly, Gage steps aside.
    Before Hunter leaves, he shoots me a look. Brief though it is, it’s like those powerful, sensitive hands are gripping my shoulders, like he’s looking right into me. Goose bumps rush along my skin under the cover of his jacket. When his eyes release me, my heart is slamming.
    Then he’s gone.
    "Freak," Gage mutters. He lets out a big breath and smiles. "Hey, Aeris!"
    "Hey," I manage back. I can’t believe he gave me his coat.
    "I saw your dad’s car out there. I figured it was you."
    "Yeah."
    "Shove over. I’ll grab some coffee. Want anything?"
    My numbness is giving way. For some reason I’m furious with Gage.
    I stand abruptly. "I’m leaving."
    His eyes widen. "W-what?"
    I angle my face away, bending over to gather my things. Frustrated tears prick my eyes. I can’t understand why I’m so upset, but I really am. And I know banging out of here is no way to treat a friend, but I can’t help it.
    Why did I accept Hunter’s jacket? I have to give it back. Which means tracking him down. I swore I’d stop thinking of him and yet he’s everywhere.
    "Aeris," Gage says, his face like a wounded puppy as he follows me outside. "You’re not mad at me, are you?"
    His blue eyes are pleading. Under that big-guy muscle and grown-up bravado is the same kid who always had my back. My guilt turns into a knot. Despite his attitude toward Hunter, I know he means well.
    "Are you?" he repeats, standing under the stop sign, the afternoon light catching gold strands in his hair.
    "Sorry, it’s just . . ." I motion at my shirt. Even though I’m gripping Hunter’s coat like a shield, the stain is up to my collar. "I spilled coffee all over myself. I have to go."
    "Oh. I didn’t notice."
    "Talk to you later?"
    He walks me around to the driver-side door. "Definitely."

    I take my time driving to Dad’s, pausing at the ocean lookout to calm down.
    When I get back, Sammy almost knocks me over with his greeting.
    I bend to bury my face in his fur. "Good to see you, too."
    He wags his back half, his big front paws stepping on my toes.
    I sniff the air and frown. "Is something burning?" Standing, I head for the kitchen. "Dad?"
    The hook where his keys hang is empty.
    I open the oven. Cold.
    The smell wafts from outside. I pad into the backyard with Sammy on my heels. There are two barbecues out here. The old one and one I’ve never seen before. And smoke is billowing from it. Sammy leads me to it, but I get hold of his collar.
    "Come on, boy." He’s so heavy I can hardly budge him. "Come on, over here."
    This is so completely unlike Dad. To leave something that could start a fire?
    I head to the side of the house for the hose to spray it down.
    The rumble of an engine stops me cold. A car is rolling into the driveway. From the sound of it, a muscle-bound racing car. A car I’m particularly attuned to. I edge up to the corner and peek around as Hunter’s glossy black vehicle purrs to a halt.
    The passenger door glides upward.
    Dad’s work boot is recognizable as he sticks one leg out and plants it on the drive. His hands reach up to grab the doorframe, and he levers himself out. His face is grim.
    My mouth drops open.
    What is this?
    Dad’s jaw is tight. I’m suddenly reminded