Page 18 of Death, Interrupted

So, so, so, so fucking stupid.

“Goddammit,” I groaned. I threw my head back and my hands up, and because I’ve always been a genius under pressure, my knife slipped free, spun once, and clattered to the hardwood right by Sumner’s shoes. The blade stopped at her toes, as if even the steel knew she was worth bowing for.

She stared at me with her eyes wide, then stared down at the body. For a long breath, neither of us moved, and the only thing that seemed to travel was the smell of blood. It crept up all around me and into my nose, and with it came something I did not want. Regret tried the lock on my ribs. No. Absolutely not. I was not going to mourn a guy who had spent his life auditioning to be the worst version of himself. If any sadness was knocking, it was not for him. It was for her. That sounded slightly better, and I decided to go with it because my head was a mess and my heart wasn't exactly a reliable narrator.

Sumner had walked in and scrambled my wiring in under a minute. She had stolen my heart and proved that love at first sight did exist. Then there was Joey, dragging every negative charge I had into high voltage, daring me to act on it. Now he was a knot of limbs on the floor, and she looked upset, and I hated that she looked upset for a man who had earned none of her grief. I also knew that at some point in their history,she had probably loved him, which only made everything even more unbearable. The fact that she didn’t help him a moment ago told me plenty. She had been trying to get out for a long time, and I had just given her a way out. God, she looked so fucking sad.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I said, never taking my eyes off her.

Her gaze stayed fixed on Joey’s body with a pained expression on her face.

“Sumner, I swear that wasn’t my plan—”

“Don’t.” Her eyes snapped to mine. As sharp as that word sounded, her eyes stayed soft. “You should leave.”

Leave. She was pushing me out even though I was the one who had started this mess.

“No.”

She went still, with her shoulders braced, and her fists closed at her sides, and she held my eyes with those grey irises that somehow made my chest feel crowded. “Sly, leave.”

“I’m not leaving you here. Not like this,” I said, and the truth was I had no idea what that sentence even meant. I only knew that the idea of walking away while she stood over the aftermath felt wrong in a way I could not accept.

She exhaled, shook her head once, and then bent to pick up the knife. Her fingers closed around the handle, and she came toward me with small,deliberate steps. When she stopped in front of me, she lowered her head, took my left hand, and set the knife into my palm. Then she looked up again, and something shifted behind my ribs as if my body understood more than my brain.

“Fuck,” I murmured, because eloquence is not always in season. “Your eyes are the most beautiful color.”

I knew it was not the right moment. I knew a dead man was cooling ten feet away. I also knew this woman had to hear that there was at least one man in the room who could say a simple truth without turning it into a weapon. She deserved to be looked at and seen, not sized up and controlled.

Her mouth curved into a small smile, and she wrapped her hands over mine. “Whatever just happened between us…it shouldn’t be happening.”

“Now that’s just nonsense,” I said, and I sounded more annoyed than I planned. “Come with me.”

Her brows pulled together, and her eyes went to Joey. She gave the scene a long, measured look, then shook her head. “I’m giving you the easy way out here, Sly. I know what you came for, and it’s done. You should go now so I can report this accident.”

“Youshould go,” I said, because I could not help myself and because I needed her to look at me again. She kept her head low, hands still covering mine, and the words came anyway. “You wanted out of thisrelationship for a while.”

It was a bold claim considering I did not have the full story, but the truth sat there all the same. It was obvious. She had not been happy in a very long time. Joey had never been the man she needed. I had the ridiculous thought that I might be, and then I hid it behind my teeth because even I knew when to throttle down a fantasy.

She gave a short, dry laugh and finally met my eyes. “You have no idea.”

I stood there with my brain running hot, chasing a dozen strategies that all led to the same dead end. There was no version of this where I picked her up and carried her out, and it turned into a victory. No speech could rearrange the last hour into something cleaner. I had known her for minutes, and yet I felt pulled to reorganize my life around the idea of her.

“Please,” she whispered, that single word a loud plea. Her eyes were steady again. “Go.”

It was not a suggestion. Even if I had opened the cage for her, even if she could have walked away through the space I made, she was choosing to stand here and clean up what I had broken, and she was asking me to keep myself out of the mess that would follow.

That made it harder to go. It also made it clear that going was the right call. Responsibility was not my default setting; that’s why I was sogood at going around it, but it turned out I could find it when a woman with the most beautiful grey eyes told me please and meant it.

I took one more slow look around the room and let out a heavy breath. I picked up my helmet from the chair, stepped around Joey with more care than he ever gave me, and walked to the door. I turned back once because I wasn’t built to leave without getting one last look at her. There were a dozen things I wanted to say to her, none of which would change what had already been done. I swallowed them, held her gaze for another heartbeat, and then did the only useful thing left to do, and left.

Even though getting on April always made me excited, it didn’t this time. I took it slow, with my jaw tight and my shoulders locked. I drove with my visor up because I needed to feel the wind on my skin. The night was cold enough to make my eyes water, and for once I did not pretend it was the wind. The quiet cut in when I got back to my apartment.

I put the helmet on the counter and watched it sit there as if it might start giving me advice. I told myself to shower. I told myself to eat. I told myself to breathe through it. I did none of that. I paced the floor between the kitchen and the living room and back again until the boards complained. The clock on the stove said it was barely past ten. It felt later.

Joey’s fall kept replaying, clean and stupid. So very stupid. I stood where I stood. He launched himself and missed. I could list the facts in a row, and none of them would touch the mess inside my ribs. I wasn’t sorry he was dead because he did it to himself. But I was sorry that it had happened in front of her. That truth kept rising no matter how many times I tried to swallow it.

I made coffee because I needed something to do with my hands. I forgot to put the filter in and stared at the brown pool on the counter until my brain caught up with the mistake. I sighed and cleaned it, then made another pot, and watched the machine gurgle. I poured a mug but did not drink it. My mouth tasted like old pennies from the blood in the room and the adrenaline that would not let go.