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“Do you make time for fun?”
Her smile dropped, and she watched me. “No, I guess I don’t.” That cheeky grin returned when she continued, “Wow, aren’t we a fun couple to be around?”
“I like your company.”
“Why?” She was still grinning. “We’ve barely spoken. I’ve been unconscious most of the time.”
I didn’t know how to explain that something about having her presence in this place I called home, however temporary and abysmal it may be, was comforting to me. Despite the darkness Evie was surrounded by, she was a light in an otherwise dank area. A beacon of hope and strength, and whether she saw it or not, it radiated from her.
“I’m not one for talking too much anyway,” I said.
“Really? You’ve barely shut the fuck up since I came here.” She gasped loudly, and I almost dropped my drink as I went to take another sip. “Good Lord,” she cried. “Was that an actual smile I saw, Zaqiel?”
My lips, with a mind of their own, curved as I took another drink. “Maybe.”
“God, I actually managed to make you smile.”
After another few moments of silence, she reached across the bed and placed her hand on top of mine, curling her fingers around my palm.
“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for rescuing me.”
“You don’t have to.”
I raised my eyes to hers. She was looking at me so earnestly.
Her skin was so soft, I brushed my thumb across her fingers.
“I do, though. I’ve been in some fucked-up situations before, but I’m fully aware that I might have died that night if you didn’t come along. Tyson certainly wasn’t going to help.”
“Tyson?”
“My…” Evie searched for the word, “… manager.” She grimaced.
I knew what she meant.
“He’d have let you die?”
“Not on purpose, I don’t think. But I know he could see me from the bar, so he might have come to get me eventually. Maybe he didn’t realize how badly I was hurt.”
“It was quite evident how badly you were hurt,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Why do you care?” she asked, the casual tone from her voice gone, just above a whisper now. But I wasn’t ready to get into that conversation, and I don’t think I ever would be. I could tell her I looked after people and rescued and cared for them because that’s what I did. But I knew from the beginning she was something more. I knew it the moment I had seen her scars and the pain in her eyes, a heart-shattering contrast to the beauty of her face.
Saying it out loud, at all, let alone to her, would make it much too real.
And make forgetting her and moving forward once she was gone from my life impossible.
So, I countered with a question. “Where do you go from here?”
I could see her mind reeling as though she hadn’t considered she had to go somewhere beyond these walls once she was healed. Evie could stay. She could stay with me forever, just the two of us in this crappy apartment.
No, she had a life to live.
And I had more work to do.
But it seemed she was no more willing to have a deep conversation with me about the realities of life beyond this moment and this bed than I was, and she brushed my question off as I had done hers. I think we both knew there were answers to those questions and answers we weren’t ready to talk about yet, if at all. So, we sat drinking in silence for a moment longer. She kept her hand wrapped around mine, and I kept rubbing my thumb across the top of her fingers pressed against my palm.
I topped up our glasses, and we talked about nothing in particular—music, whatever was the latest on the news, our favorite drinks and foods—small things of no consequence, and I could verbalize without feeling like a crack was opening in my chest. After a while, I could see her eyes were becoming glazed—the alcohol mixed with the drain in her weakened state had taken its toll. I had that pleasant buzzing in my head, and I knew I should end this conversation, but when I looked at her, I realized she was much closer than she was before. At some point, I had moved across next to her, and we sat side by side, arms touching and fingers still intertwined.
