Page 57 of Kill Your Darlings

“You didn’t think this was different?”

“It was different to me, yeah.But I told myself it just wouldn’t matter that much to you.I genuinely believed that.You weren’t the one who pushed for more.”

He was right.And he was wrong.I said, “Just so you know: I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

He regarded me, then said slowly, “No, I don’t think you would’ve.I apologize.Sincerely.I let my insecurities get in the way.”

Before I could respond, he amended, “Insecurities combined with instinct.I was a cop for a long time.I can tell when something is not right.”He waited, his gaze challenging.

I imagined trying to explain to him how very wrong things were.Starting withI think someone tried to kill me last night.

I nodded, rubbed my forehead.

To my astonishment, Finn rose again, scooting next to me and wrapping his arms around me.It wasn’t—it was such an instinctive, natural gesture of comfort—comfort.As he held me, I could feel that he was offering strength, compassion, protection.He said—and I could feel the steady beat of his heart against mine, hear his words whispered against my ear, “Keir, I know you well enough to know something’s wrong.And getting worse.I thought you were having a breakdown last night.”

I tried to say lightly, “It’s just the normal noises in here.”

But he was way past the fencing and diversions and evasions.“Please, let me help you.”

Please.

That had to be the first time in my life anyone had pleaded with me to let them take some of the weight off.

Slowly it came to me that that if I was ever going to trust anyone, that person would be Finn.In fact, I did trust him.My silence wasn’t about the lack of trust.It was…

Complicated.

It was about not wanting to drag Finn into this nightmare.But also, it was about not wanting Finn to see who I really was.I dreaded losing his respect almost more than I dreaded losinghim.And there was more, yes.It was also about having to deal with consequences, because once Finn knew the whole story, he was not going to be okay with it.He was not going to take the attitude of letting sleeping dogs lie.

The truth was, these dogs weren’t sleeping.They were hunting me.

Was the real me, the old me, really worse than what Finn imagined?Because he clearly imagined something, someone unsalvageable.

I rested my head on his shoulder.Finn gently squeezed the back of my neck.The fact that he didn’t try to urge his point, didn’t say anything at all, calmed me, allowed me to consider.For the last thirty-something hours, I’d been in constant motion, reacting emotionally to events rather than thinking rationally.

If anyonecouldhelp, it was probably Finn.Hewantedto help.

I drew back—it wasn’t easy—and untangled myself from the sheets and blankets, climbing out of bed.“I want to show you something.”

I padded over to the sliding glass door.

Finn watched in silence as I pulled back the drapes and opened the glass door, stepping out onto the sunlit balcony.I shivered in the morning breeze skipping off the ocean.

He suddenly moved from the bed, following me out onto the balcony, and I wondered if it had gone through his mind that I might jump.He seemed to believe I was in a precarious state, and maybe I was, but I was made of sterner stuff than that.

I half expected the manuscript to be gone—that’s how weird my life had become of late, but no.It was right where I’d left it, wedged down between the cement planter and container.I pulled the binder out, brushed the dirt from the damp pages.

I handed the sheaf to Finn and returned inside, climbing shakily onto the bed.

“I Know What You Did?”He watched me huddle back under the blankets.“What is this?”

“I’m not completely sure.I’m pretty confident it’s not a submission.”

He closed the glass doors and dropped into the chair beside the window.He flipped open the binder and began to read.I watched him for a minute or two, watched his eyes narrow, watched his mouth straighten into a hard line.

He read through to the end, and said finally, “That’s it?One chapter?”

“Yes.”