Page 152 of The Fractured

A single cigarette.

He looked at it for a long time, contemplating before he put it between his lips and retrieved his lighter too.

I could’ve stopped him, but he deserved this one small release.

Who was I to judge when I had used sex to overcome trauma?

His hands shook as he tried over and over to light the end of his cigarette, his frustration growing by the second.

I moved in front of him and gently took the lighter. It was harder than I expected, but I managed to flick the wheel several times before a flame appeared. I cupped a hand around it to protect it from the wind and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette.

The end crackled softly, and he drew back on it long and slow, frowning as he did.

Dean then dropped his head back to breathe out a cloud of smoke, casting his teary gaze to the sky.

A police car was stationed outside the apartment, providing some security to a day that left us emotionally unguarded.

Inside, I slipped off my shoes, fed Bella a dinner of leftover rice because we had forgotten to buy dog food, and drifted into my room where Dean was already sitting on the end of my bed. Head in hands, elbows to knees, he combed his fingers through his black hair. His suit jacket sat beside him, his tie was discarded, and his sleeves were rolled up.

“I didn’t think that many people would show,” he muttered.

I sat beside him and rested my head on his shoulder. “Your mom touched so many people’s hearts; I’m surprised more didn’t come.”

He threaded his fingers through mine. “Thank you for steppin’ up.”

I cupped the side of his face with my other hand. The gray-blue of his eyes held so much sorrow. There wasn’t a shred of any walls left, only raw emotion and complete trust. We had seen each other at our worst and barely flinched.

“Did you want to lay here a while?” My thumb stroked his cheek.

“Sounds good to me.”

We lay on top of the covers, still in our clothes and facing one another with our hands resting in the space between us. There was no talking, only listening to the sounds in my room and the city outside as the sun set.

Eventually, Dean fell into a deep sleep. The first he had had since last weekend.

I stayed beside him for some time, until night fell and the room grew dark; until Kira and Seb arrived home with the quiet click of the front door. They didn’t say a word, and I wondered if they went straight to her room.

Bella began to bark frantically.

I frowned at the door. She usually loved Seb and Kira.

Not wanting it to wake Dean, I got out of bed and padded over to the door before slipping out of the room, back first, as I quietly closed the door again.

“Bella,” I whispered, turning around to calm the dog and greet our friends. “It’s okay. It’s just—”

Chapter 52

Dean

My body jolted, and I woke up, wondering if the distant scream I heard was part of a dream.

She was still alive in my dreams. That's why I didn’t sleep. Seeing her and then waking up only made the loss worse.

I would never get the chance to speak with her again.

I rubbed my eyes, inhaling as I reached out to Lily’s side of the bed. But Lily wasn’t there, and Bella was barking.

Feeling weary, I pulled myself out of bed and made my way to the door, trying to gain some sense of normal from a day so heavy. I thought I was all out of tears, yet another lump was quick to form in my throat the second I thought about the funeral again.