Page 164 of No Good Fight

He checks Alex’s water. Then he asks whether she’s cold. Then whether she needs the lights lower. When she tells him she needs him to go home before she throws the water at him, he glances at the cup like he’s calculating the range.

“You’d miss.”

“I’d throw the pitcher.”

“There isn’t a pitcher.”

“I’ll find one.”

Nia takes his hand. “Come on. We can help them without moving in with them.”

Josh doesn’t move until Alex reaches for him.

He goes to the bed immediately.

She hooks her fingers into the front of his shirt when he bends over her, and his arms go around her carefully enough that the sight of it hurts. Neither of them says much. They don’t need to.

When he straightens, he wipes one hand over his face and looks at me. “Call me.”

“I will.” The nod I give him is severe, and I genuinely do mean it.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

His eyes move toward Alex again. “Anything changes.”

“I’ve got it.”

Alex makes an annoyed noise. “I’m still here.”

Josh gives her a look. “You’re also terrible at admitting when something changes.”

“That is slander.”

“It isn’t slander if I have witnesses and you’re in the fucking hospital as a result of it.”

Nia finally gets him moving. Alex watches them leave, and when the door shuts, the room feels much larger than it did a minute ago.

I stay where I am.

She lies quietly for a while, staring at the television mounted on the wall even though it isn’t turned on. I let her have the silence until her eyes drift toward my hands.

The hospital cleaned my knuckles before they let me back into her room. There are small bandages over the worst splits. The rest are bruised and swollen.

“You should have those looked at again.”

“They’re fine.”

Her eyebrow lifts so high I almost laugh.

“Yeah. I heard it.”

“Good.”

I rub my palms over my thighs and look toward the closed door. There’s no reason to watch it. Preston can’t walk through it. Nobody is coming to finish what he started.

I know that.