Page 16 of Succubus

He shakes his head, like Not your fault.

I shake my head back. My fault.

But of course he doesn’t understand.

Adam ended his own life. Joel implied it, didn’t he?

He’d been so positive, energetic, when I’d known him.

“That probably doesn’t sound like a real explanation,” Joel says.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“I’m stuck there, I guess. I’m not past it. I can’t get past it.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“You, either,” he says. “But what’s yours?”

I push at the sauce on my plate with my fork, cutting aimless channels in it. Time to lie. I take a breath. “I’m just really focused on being there for Ella. Trying to fit in my job.”

We glance at Ella, engrossed in her chess game, the bluish phone light illuminating her face. He nods. “Right. Of course.”

We are silent.

“Cool,” I say lightly, but with finality. “Such grown-ups.”

His eyebrows shoot up at the unexpected humor and he laughs, and I want to run my tongue over his neat, square teeth. “That’s what I’m always going for. You know, that driving-a-Honda vibe.”

“Do you drive a Honda?” I’ve seen his car in the driveway, but I can’t remember.

“I do,” he admits. “They perform well in crash tests.” He’s making fun of himself.

“That’s very practical.”

His gaze bumps into mine, stays.

I can’t look away. I am stuck there, a small spacecraft in a large tractor beam. Utterly exposed, lit up in the dark.

I need to play this right, but I can’t. I put my hands over my face, holding myself in. I take them away, and he’s looking right at me with such serious eyes. He’s looking at me like I’m beautiful.

“Sorry,” he says, admitting to the meaning of the look. He closes his eyes for a moment. “That’s not helpful.”

“Not really. But— ” But I love it. I love you.

You don’t love him! I yell at myself internally, furious. What the fuck. You met him a month ago.

But, my God, it doesn’t matter.

“Tempest,” he says, grit in his voice.

I stand up firmly. “Thank you for dinner.” My left knee gives and I fight not to wobble. Stupid weak body. I am choosing this. I am choosing it to save him.

But if I didn’t kill Adam. If it truly isn’t my fault. Then what if I just tried . . .

I rush my plate into the kitchen, calling over my shoulder. “Two-minute warning, Els! Gotta get home for story time with Mommy.” Dee is working late; we’ll beat her back.

Even if somehow Adam survived me, Joel may not. The others still died. That was real. It happened.