“Hey!” I reach for his face with both hands as he gives me that caged lion look. “You can’t go in acting all guilty, beating yourself up. If you’re sure about this, just give them the truth. That’s all you owe anyone.”
For a second, he shifts his weight and then flops down next to me, another world-heaving sigh leaving his throat.
“You’re right,” he whispers into the morning after a few seconds. “For you, I’ll go in rested. Not until I have my shit together.”
“And I’ll be with you.”
“Outside. Waiting,” he adds firmly.
I nod.
If I had my way, I’d be right by his side, holding his hand, but I’ve learned when I shouldn’t push my luck.
“You’re so brave. I couldn’t do it, and honestly, I still wonder if you should—”
“Stop.” He looks at me again in the meager dawn light, his eyes shining like stars. “Nerves are contagious and I’m not having that shit. The sooner I go in, get it done, and get out, the faster we start our lives.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Then I lace my fingers through his, loving how he brings my hand to his mouth for a kiss that’s so tender.
“A few hours of shut-eye. A couple hours of heavy conversations. Then there’s nothing between us and tomorrow.”
That’s all the reminder I need.
With one lingering, sultry kiss, I snuggle down on his chest and drift off to sleep with him, signing my trust over to this man forever.
28
ALL THE VENOM (ETHAN)
There are no words for the moment I walk into that police station.
I should feel like a man on death row, ready to meet my fate and whatever’s on the other side, but there’s an icy calm in my veins.
I don’t look back at Hattie, waiting anxiously in the car as she fidgets with her phone, pretending not to watch me until I disappear from view.
I don’t slow down to notice how much older Chief Saunter looks, verging on retirement, his wiry hair and mustache now fully shot with silver.
I don’t let my mind trap me in the past, to the heart of a volatile young man, too traumatized and chickenshit to face hard truths head-on.
I just know I’m ready when the chief pulls out the only other chair in his office for me and says, “Gotta say, Ethan, I’m real surprised to see you here. Sorry to hear about your granddad. What brings you in?”
I don’t remember the blow-by-blow, the words I say as I start at the beginning.
I just give him my version.
Past, present, future, heaven, and hell all blur together for the better part of the next hour.
In twenty years, the only thing I’ll truly remember is the emotion on the face of an old cop who’s seen enough to go numb.
The way his eyes narrow to slits.
The way his thin mustache twitches when he exhales sharply.
The way his shoulders tense, then slump, and settle in dramatic movements.
“And that’s it then? Everything?” he asks gently at the end.
“Everything,” I say with a nod. “I know it’s a closed case, Chief. I know there’s no criminal mystery and it’s not like you’re in the business of tearing open old wounds.”
