Page 53 of Kill Your Darlings

Dismay gave me the energy to get off the bed, to move away.“No.I can’t take the back and forth.You didn’t have any doubts this morning.You can’t tell me you think something’s wrong with me and then turn around and say you still care.And then tomorrow—what?It’s back to me beingAmerica’s Most Wanted?”

“Keir—”

“It’s not right.I accepted your decision.This is… I’ve never done anything to you.It’s fuckingcruel.”

“Keiran.”He got off the bed too, and tried to put his arms around me.I pushed at him, but then had to sit down on the mattress.I put my head in my hands.I wasn’t crying, though I probably should have been.

Finn knelt at my feet, rested his warm hands on my bare knees.“Keir, listen.Just listen for a minute.I shouldn’t have brought this up now.I know you’re not in any state to cope with it.I’m sorry.If you want me to go, I’ll go.But I’d like to stay at least until you’re feeling better.”

I wanted to say, “Go.”One little syllable.One little word.But it stuck in my throat.

I didn’t want him to go.I wanted him to stay, wanted to rest in his arms one last time,

Finn waited and when I didn’t, couldn’t speak, said, “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

It was an assertion rather than a question, and there was no point arguing the obvious.

I didn’t answer, didn’t resist either as Finn rose, pulled back the bedclothes, guiding me as I crawled between the sheets and tried to lie very still.

He stood for a beat at the edge of the bed.

“Doyou want me to go?”His voice was gruff.

This was probably it.The last night we would ever spend together in any way, shape, or form.And I just couldn’t…

“No,” I said wearily, without opening my eyes.“Not yet.”

There was a pause.Then the soft rustle of Finn removing his shoes, then his jacket.The bed dipped as he sat, then stretched out on top of the covers beside me, close enough to touch, but not intruding.

“I’ll stay as long as you need,” he whispered.

I shook my head wearily, but it was at myself, not him.When I didn’t answer, he edged closer, and I let myself lean against him.Just a little.When, after a time, his hand found mine, his long fingers closing around mine with familiar careful strength, I didn’t pull away.No.I held on.Tight.

In the hush of the darkened room, the pound of the surf below us echoing my heartbeat, and Finn breathing softly beside me, I finally let go.

Around midnight, I had the second dose of rizatriptan.

Finn, who’d been sleeping, woke up and started rubbing my head once more.

“Did you ever kill anyone?When you were a cop?”I asked.

I’d been having some weird and unsettling fever dreams or I’d never have asked.

Finn was silent.Then he said, “No.I was involved in two shootings.No one died.Thank God.”

“Yes,” I agreed.It would be terrible.Terrible for someone who cared about the doing the right thing as much as Finn.

“Why?”he asked.

I moved my head, not answering.He didn’t push it, and after a little while I dozed off again beneath that comforting touch.

Usually, I didn’t sleep well sharing a bed, but over the years, I’d gotten used to Finn.Used to the sound of his breathing, his tendency to sprawl out and take up three-quarters of the mattress, even used to his inclination to hold and snuggle.I was not a snuggler.I did not like to be touched when I was sleeping, let alone held, but somehow, I’d come to accept it from Finn.It was okay with Finn.

It was okay that night.More than okay.I was grateful for his strength and closeness.I felt…safe.

I slept lightly, but I did sleep, though I was vaguely aware of him pulling the blankets over my shoulders a couple of times, vaguely aware of him lightly resting his fingers beneath my jaw once.When the alarm on my cell went off at five, I felt him reach over me and quickly mute my phone.

He said softly, firmly, “Go back to sleep,” and I did.