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I do my best work, stitching him quickly and efficiently. She holds his hand the whole time, while the other runs over his forehead and through his hair.
I wipe off the excess blood on his skin and pull the bedsheets over his body. Silence stretches through the room, the air thick with tension as we watch him and wait. Neither of us is willing to leave. She’s not willing to leave him. And I’m not willing to leave her.
A moment later, he stirs.
“Rialta?” he croaks.
“Shhh, I’m here. Just rest—you’re safe now,” she exhales as if trying to convince herself that he’s safe.
“Do you remember what happened? Who took you?” I ask.
Kit looks at me, but I can tell his head is still groggy. Finally, he says, “No.”
“I’ll give you some privacy. Let me know if you need anything.” And then I walk out.
After leaving the bedroom, I don’t make it far before collapsing onto the living room couch. I should make food to bring them, but I’m spent. And I don’t have the emotional energy to witness any more of their shared longing or the kisses I’m sure she’s coating him in.
Kit’s alive. And I helped to ensure he stays that way.
He’s alive—she no longer has a reason to hate me, to want me dead.
He’s alive—the love of her life is back in the picture. I have no chance with her.
He’s alive…
I smile.
I’m happy for her. At the same time, my heart is breaking.
“Did you mean what you said?” Rialta says from the doorway.
My head whips to her, shocked she left Kit so soon.
“Is Kit okay?” I ask.
“I gave him some pain pills, and he fell back asleep. I figured it was best to let him rest.”
I nod.
“Did you mean what you said?”
She doesn’t have to explain what she meant. I know.
“If you love Kit, if you choose Kit, I’ll help you get him forever.”
“What about our deal?”
“Forget about our deal. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what Andrea wants, or Vincent wants, or anyone else. The only thing that matters is what’s in your heart. If it belongs to Kit, then as soon as he’s well enough to travel, I’ll get you two somewhere safe.”
She wraps her arms around her torso, blood covering her shirt and hands. Sweat greases her hair. She walks over, my eyes never leaving her as she sits on the couch next to me but not touching.
I still, unsure of why she’s not holding vigilance over Kit.
“When did you start loving me? Why? What changed?” she asks.
With her sitting here, and her boyfriend in the next room, this feels like my last chance to make her mine. I won’t get another shot. This is it.
“The second I pulled you out of the car when I thought Kit was raping you.”
