Page 216 of Quarter to Midnight


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“Thank you,” he whispered, unsurprised that his throat now ached.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered back.

“We should move,” he said wearily.

“Nah. We’re good here for a bit longer.”

He frowned, trying to think. “But Baton Rouge.”

“We’ll get there. Don’t you worry.”

But he did worry. He did nothing but worry. “I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Same goes. Except Ducote.”

“Yeah,” he agreed grimly. “He could die right now, and I wouldn’t shed another tear.”

She went quiet again, still stroking. His eyes were heavy and sore. “You’re gonna put me right to sleep,” he muttered.

“That’s the plan. You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”

“No. I kept thinking of... everything.” He sighed. “I killed a man.”

“I know,” she murmured.

“I’d do it again, but... damn, Molly.”

“I know,” she said again.

He supposed that she did. “I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep, Gabe. I won’t leave you.”

He yawned, her murmurs so comforting. “The ground is hard. You can’t be comfortable.”

“My ass has sat on far more uncomfortable surfaces,” she said lightly. “But you can go to sleep in a real bed, if you want.”

“Will you go with me?” he found himself asking.

She cupped his cheek. “Absolutely.”

He started to get up, then slumped back down. “Everyone’s in there.”

They’ll see. They’ll know that I fell apart.

“Yes. But nobody’s going to say a word to you about... you know. Crying out here. I think we were all wondering when it would come.”

He snorted a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “Was there a betting pool?”

“No, not for that. But for us having sex? There sure was a pool for that.”

He peeked up at her, wincing because his whole face felt like hamburger. “Who won?”

A little smile tilted her lips. “Cicely.”

“You’re lyin’.”

She chuckled. “Still waters, you know? I would have thought it’d be Willa Mae.”

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