In Your Dreams (Falling #4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

a real dick,” I say, rolling my head back toward the table, hiding my eyes again.
    “Sure I am, Casey. You keep telling yourself that,” he laughs.
    “I need your car again,” I say.
    “No,” he answers quickly.
    “I’ll drop you off at work and have it back to you in time for you to be done with your shift. I’m buying one on Craigslist today,” I say, talking over him and ignoring his first response.
    “I’m pretty sure I said no, ” he says.
    “Yeah, but you always do. Anyhow,” I say while he sighs at the other end of the table. “Where does this Murphy live? Show me on the way to the store.”
    “Case, it’s…” he twists in his chair to look at the clock over his shoulder, “…not even five thirty in the morning. You can’t go to her parents’ house right now.”
    “Uhm, believe me. I’m well aware of how butt-crack early it is right now. I’ll go later. Just show me where it is so I can,” I lie. I’m going to that house the second I drop his ass off at work. I won’t wake anyone up, but I’m sure as shit sitting in the driveway until I see some sign of life inside.
    “Fine, but just…I don’t know…be a gentleman? Murphy’s always been sorta shy, so maybe just try not to be so…so… you, ” he says. I turn my head to look up at him again, keeping my eyes on his until he breaks away, shaking his head.
    Less me. Less selfish. Less…unable to feel. My mind flashes back on the voicemail I haven’t played again, but can’t seem to delete.
    “Fine. I’ll be less…me,” I say, rolling my eyes, playing the part of Casey, the asshole. Being this guy is easier. I give in to the broken parts. I push away from the table and grab a mug from Houston’s cupboard, emptying the rest of the coffee pot, and dropping in two ice cubes so I can drink it fast. I hate coffee. I just like what it does.
    Houston finishes his cup and clears off the table, shutting out the lights and locking the back door behind us as we head to his car. It’s a warm summer morning, but my shaggy hair looks like I spent the night in an alley, so I keep my hoodie pulled tight around my body.
    We hit the main turnpike and drive about six or seven miles out of our way, taking the exit for Cloud Road. I’ve lived in this town since birth, and I don’t think I’ve driven down this street once. We pass seven or eight houses when we get to one on a corner. It’s small, but nice, and there’s one of those wagon wheels buried halfway in the front yard for decoration.
    “That’s it?” I ask, taking in the sight. The house is plain, and the only car in the driveway is some hybrid electric car that probably gets a hundred miles to the gallon.
    “I think so,” Houston says, taking in a deep breath and spinning around at the small intersection where the neighborhood streets meet.
    He glances at the house one more time as we pass a second time on our way to his store. I crane my neck to memorize everything about the way it looks, the numbers, the streets, the exit. I’ll backtrack this entire trip the second he gets out of the car.
    “So, if I don’t know this Murphy chick, how do you know her so well?” I ask, unzipping my hoodie and turning the air vents toward me to cool off.
    “Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Houston asks, jerking to the side as I pull and tug at my sleeves, trying to get the damn heat blanket off.
    “My hair’s all whacked. I didn’t shower,” I say, finally freeing myself and throwing the sweatshirt in the back. I twist in the seat and search the floor of his car, grateful to find one of his hats there. I push it on my head, stretching the tight fit a little. It will have to do.
    “I hate it when you do that,” he says, eying me from the side.
    “I know,” I say. No real excuse, and it ruins his hats. But I’m a mess, and I haven’t seen him in this one in months. I’ll get him a new one if he throws a major fit.
    “Murphy’s mom was going to watch Leah. She ran an in-home