Page 61 of Bound in Ashes

I knew she was the noble kind of stupid, the kind that thought she should be out here putting her ass on the line instead of back where it was safe.

The clang of silverware in a drawer I pulled open roughly rang in my ears, the angst gnawing at me taking physical shape.

I stopped and swept the kitchen, my gaze frozen on the far wall.

These assholes had a Vermeer print on the wall next to a Live Laugh Love sign.

A capital offense in my book.

I turned my thoughts from the dead homeowner’s terminal lack of taste to other thoughts that provided no comfort.

I should have forced her.

But I didn’t.

Was too fucking pigheaded to admit why.

But now, as I went through another suburban house, one that was effectively a mausoleum, I could admit the truth.

Leaving her would have meant being without her.

And that shit felt weird.

No, not weird.

Wrong.

More wrong than dead people walking.

More wrong than being away from Evan…

I slammed the drawer, uncaring of the noise.

How the fuck did I let this happen?

I didn’t know, but the truth was as undeniable as my need for her.

Her not with me. Her further away than arm’s length…

It made me feel…exposed.

Anxious.

Weak.

I fucking hated it.

Told myself it was just a trauma response.

We’d been through the shit together, side by side every step of the way.

She was my battle buddy.

Yeah.

That was it.

I threw the two one-pound cans of peaches in the bag, too, pleased enough with the trip and even happier that it would soon be over.