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We stared at one another, both of us at a weird impasse.
I took the time to study him. Bags under his eyes. His usually neat hair stuck up in several directions. Wrinkles littered all over his untucked button down.
I didn’t know what to make of this version of him.
Pity and this overwhelming desire to help him filled me.
I had to be insane. Certifiable.
I gentled my voice. “What happened?”
Why?
Why had I asked that?
Why did I care?
Why?
Just why?
You are Jupiter, and he is Ganymede, revolving around you like you are his planet, and he is your moon.
Maybe Vince had gotten it wrong. Maybe Bastian was Jupiter, and I was Ganymede, revolving around Bastian, unable to pull away from his gravity. Gosh, Ganymede was such an idiot.
He needed Jesus and an intervention.
Bastian’s anger still simmered waves of heat around us. He looked like he sought an outlet; I didn’t know if I could give one to him.
“He’s gone.”
The words ripped out of him, escaping his lips and clawing its way into my throat.
I felt his pain to my very core, and I couldn’t explain it.
I didn’t even like Bastian as a person, so why did I feel his pain like it was my own? Nothing about us made sense.
We were supposed to fight, and fight, and fight, and fight.
He wasn’t supposed to massage me. He wasn’t supposed to listen to me grieve my mom’s death. He wasn’t supposed to help me home and tuck me in. He wasn’t supposed to carry hundreds of pounds of ice for me.
He was supposed to be the villain in the story, and I was supposed to be the hero.
Never once did I consider it’d be the other way around.
Then, don’t betray him.
I shook the thought away.
I’d already committed to leaving the bureau. I just didn’t know how. But tonight, for just one night, maybe I could feel like the savior for once.
I took another step closer and reached up and touched his face.
“How can I help? Who’s gone?”
His jaw ticked, his efforts to keep himself in control visible. “Vincent.”
I worked to tamp my reaction. “When did you last see him?”
