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My ribs felt like they were cinching tighter, a corset of grief squeezing everything together and making it hard to breathe. “I’m coming over.”
“Good. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
I made it to my old building in record time, my brain and body operating with a singular focus. Get. To. Foster. Pike let me in without a word and cocked his head toward Foster’s bedroom.
“Did you tell him I was coming?”
“No. He just came home a little while ago from another meeting with the FBI and went straight into his room.”
I took a shaky breath. “Wish me luck, then.”
“You’ll probably need it, doc. He hates the world right now and everyone in it.”
“How could he not?”
Pike nodded grimly. “Yeah.”
I set my purse down on the counter and headed toward Foster’s room. He may hate the world, but I loved him. And I’d waited far too long to tell him that.
I knocked on the door.
FORTY
There was no answer on the first knock, so I rapped the door again.
??Fuck off, Pike. I’m busy.”
I wet my lips. “It’s Cela.”
There was silence on the other side for a long few seconds. I started to wonder if he’d heard me, but then the door opened.
Foster stood there, clean shaven and put together on the surface, but when I met his eyes I saw the hollowness there. “What are you doing here?”
His tone was flat, and I had to swallow past the anxiety of barging in on him while he was going through all of this. Maybe I was overstepping, maybe our relationship was more of a fun, sexy thing, and I wasn’t welcome into his world for the big things like grief and tragedy and loss. Insecurity made me want to shrink back, but I pressed on, clearing my throat. “I wanted to . . .”
“Say you’re sorry? Offer your condolences?”
The words were sharp and his grip tight on the door, but I recognized this mode. The dagger eyes, the movements that seemed both like aggression and retreat wrapped into one. I’d seen it time and again with animals when they were injured. Even the sweetest, gentlest pet could turn into a fire-breathing hound from hell when it was hurt. Bad news for Foster was that I wouldn’t be scared off by it. Those were the animals most in need of help.
I squared my shoulders. “I am sorry. So very sorry, Foster. But I came here for you. To help with whatever you might need.”
He scoffed. “Help. Like there’s anything anyone can do. She’s dead, Cela. My beautiful, innocent baby sister, raped and murdered by that fucking monster.” Utter anguish crumpled his features for a moment before he pulled his expression back to its hard edge. “All because I gave him opportunity. I took my eyes off of her, and he took her. So, unless you have a time machine to go fix that, there is no goddamned help to be had.”
I closed my eyes, the despair of his words, the life sentence he’d assigned himself making me physically hurt for him.
“So, go home. It’s not a good time.”
He moved to close the door and I stepped forward, my hand smacking the wood as I blocked it from shutting, and strode past him. “Well, that’s too bad because if you want me to leave, you’re going to have to carry me out. And I may kick and scream. Just warning you.”
He turned, his face going blank for a moment at my declaration, then annoyed. “What the hell?”
“You’re grieving and you’re angry. I understand that. But now’s not the time to be alone.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“I love you.”
He stilled. “What? Cela, no, I can’t deal with this right now . . .”
