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She takes off toward the kitchen. I’m by her side, grabbing her hand and pulling her to a stop before she’s gone. “I didn’t assume. But it’s my job, Avery.”
Her chest rises and falls with her shaky breaths, her robe coming open up top. I should release her and look away, but she’s just too beautiful. Her skin flushed, her hair falling loose.
As her gaze drops to our linked hands, she runs her thumb over my knuckles, and a spark of memory tears through me. The feel of her soft skin against mine. I want more of it. I want it all.
When her eyes finally meet mine, I glimpse a hint of remembrance there—just a vague flicker that makes me question if she knew I was with her those nights. “I know. Your job,” she says, her tone sullen. “The real reason you’re here tonight.”
The verbal blow knocks me back, and I do let her go. “We used to be on that same page.”
She shrugs. “That was before I started playing for the other team.” At my wary expression, she says, “Team victim.”
Words fail me as she exits the living room. I stare at the floor, hating that I can’t make this better for her—that I can’t fix it. In the hospital, I felt like her hero, but here in the waking world, her nightmares are real and too complicated for simple reassurances.
“That night,” I call out. “I should’ve carried you.”
Within seconds, Avery rounds the corner, her face pinched in question. “What?”
“That night we found you,” I repeat, looking into her eyes. “I should’ve carried you out—”
“Honestly, Quinn, I don’t need a hero,” she cuts in. “I didn’t need one then, and I don’t need one now. What I need is someone who isn’t afraid to touch me in the light of day.”
And hell, there it is. She calls me out. The venom in her words should shut me down, but despite my fear of losing control over this situation, I press against her defenses. “I don’t want to be your fucking hero, Avery. You don’t need saving. But I do regret not being able to protect you—to show you right then in that moment that I’d take on the world to keep you safe.”
For a second, her features soften. Her gaze locks with mine, and I can almost reach her. “And why didn’t you?” she asks, snapping her damn wall back into place. “Why didn’t you swoop in and scoop me into your big detective arms? Because I’m tainted? Because I’m too fragile? Because you’re scared to be so close to the sickness?”
“No…never. Because I was terrified. That if I ever wrapped my arms around you, I would never let you go again.” I invade her personal space, killing the separation she’s put between us. “And that fucking terrified me.”
I watch her swallow, the slender column of her neck so tempting, so delicate. “And now?”
My hands flex at my sides, but I don’t reach out, even though every part of me screams to touch her. “I’m still terrified. But I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll be whatever you need me to be. A friend. A confidant—”
She holds up a hand. Then, touching that hand to the scar along her lip, she shrinks away. “I think what I need is sleep.” She turns her back to me, and this time, I let her leave the room for good.
Allowing Avery to have the last word, I take my leave. I’ve already made a fucking mess of it all, dammit. Before the door closes behind me, she shouts, “What new evidence do you have, Quinn? Remember?”
I stand paused in the doorway. “I need you to determine if the vic was a pro.”
Silence stretches out. The distance building between us lodges an ache beneath my chest. Then she appears in the living room. “It’s possible,” she says. “The vic had a long-term birth control measure in place. And the scarring along her vaginal walls could be due to numerous sexual encounters. Yes. I’d say the possibility is very likely if you have additional evidence to support it.”
I nod slowly. “All right. Thanks.”
“Is that all you wanted?”
Her question grips me like a vise, crushing my lungs. The truthful response doesn’t have a place here, however. I push i
t down deep, giving her a simple, “Yes,” before I shut the door on my way out.
Being in control of my surroundings and myself is what keeps my instincts sharp. I depend on it at all times. But with Avery, I feel that control slipping, weakening more and more every second.
5
Discovery
Avery
When I think of how I got to this place in my life, there’s no one, defining factor. It must be that way for most people when they recount the many decisions that lead them to a particular point in time when they examine the mess their life has become.
A series of decisions were made, each one branching out a new limb, connecting to a different course. I used to see the whole of my life as a labyrinth. A beautiful but neat and concise warren of graceful curves and paths. I was always so purposeful. Every choice made, I made it with absolution.
