Page 60 of Was I Ever Here

“Oh c’mon, I was only joking.” His face drops all traces of amusement. “I’m serious, tell me.”

I take a few moments to collect my thoughts again and lick my lips as I think. “When I woke up that day in the hospital bed, I had a hard time deciphering what was real, or I mean, what was real fromthislifetime and what were memories from before. But something was crystal clear. I knew I would eventually find that—soul again,” I say, almost shyly, my breath coming out ragged but I push through. “Then five years passed and I thought maybe I had been wrong. That I had just imagined it all—until the night we found Gary. The night I first saw Sunny.”

The silence is thick in the air as I let him sit with what I just told him. How I’ve known Sunny from before.

I loved her before. A thousand times before.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know…I just knew. I can’t explain it, I just fucking knew.”

“Does she know?” he asks.

I look over to him, hoping to god my eyes don’t betray the pain behind them and simply shake my head. Connor’s face is a mixture of surprise and total confusion. But then he breaks into a smile and says, “I fucking knew you had it bad brother. I just didn’t knowhowbad.”

His laugh is pure. And his easy tone acts like a balm to my nerves. I let out a sigh and give him a half smile, feeling somewhat relieved.

“So?” Connor says, leaning his elbows on the desk conspiratorially. “What are you going to do about it?”

Chapter 33

Sunny

Myfeetarekillingme.

I shrug my purse onto my shoulder and mechanically shove my hair into a messy bun while I walk out the back door of Sammies. It’s only midnight but it was a slow night, and I was the lucky one who got cut early. Byzantine disappeared mid-shift promising to come back, but since I finished earlier than expected, he’s not here to drive me home and I don’t plan on telling him.

He’s been acting a little strange ever since he opened up about his near-death experience. Well, stranger than usual. He opened up and then shut right back down again. Like a frightened clam. But I don’t think it’s just that. I think what I told him the night I confessed about River spooked him.

Probably the whole part of me being suicidal. Yeah, that’ll do it. It’s the reason why I’ve always kept it secret—aside from River. She knew all my secrets. People look at you differently when they know. Like the only feeling they can conjure up is the sad saccharine taste of pity.

Although what I see in Byzantine’s eyes when he stares back is not pity. It’s something else entirely, something I can’t quite place. All I know is that it doesn’t feel hollow like pity, nor does it feel like he’s treating me like I’m this fragile broken thing either. I could ask him. But he’d most likely try to distract me again instead of answering the question.

Maybe deep down I’m the one seeking the distraction.

I inhale deeply, breathing in the fresh nighttime air, cutting through the parking lot and turning the corner on King Street. I’ve only taken a few steps down the sidewalk when I feel something hard jam itself between my shoulder blades and freeze.

“If you run, I’ll shoot,” the man behind me growls, shoving what I’m now assuming is a gun deeper into my back. My hands go up on instinct, adrenaline coursing through me. “That’s it,” he says while pulling the gun away from me only to shove my shoulder with the barrel. “Now turn around nice and slowly and no one is going to get hurt, you understand me?”

“Y—yes,” I stutter, facing him with my hands still raised above my head. Despite the fear clawing at my throat, I try to take a quick inventory of the attacker. Male, short, long stringy brown hair, blue eyes, stained gray hoodie, and a rose tattooed on his neck.

“Hand me your purse,” he barks and I wince.

I’m about to hand it over when the sound of screeching tires pierces the night, dragging the man's attention away from me. His eyes go wide and without another word, turns on a dime and sprints down the street, disappearing into the alley up ahead. I turn towards the car, relief flooding my body as I see who it is.

“Byzantine…” I manage to say, realizing every muscle in my body is wound so tight I can barely breathe.

He stalks towards me, expletives flying out of his mouth, fear written clear across his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing me by the arms, giving me a once over, before finally bringing me into his arms. I try to answer him but I can’t seem to find my words. “Talk to me, Sunny. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Y—yes, I’m okay,” I finally say, curling my hands into fists, trying to keep them from shaking. “I’m just…I’m just a little rattled I think…” I trail off, curling into him. “I can’t believe that just happened,” I stutter out as an after-thought. “Should I call the police? You know, give them a description?”

Byzantine’s body tenses around me.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Surprised, I unwind myself from his embrace, glancing up at him. “How?” I ask.

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