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And here this beautiful woman is, making me realize what I’ve missed.
But it’s time to go. The circles under her eyes are too dark, and I catch her stifling a yawn.
“Let me take you home. You need to rest.”
“I do,” she sighs. “But there’s one more thing I need to talk to you about.”
I nod.
“I want to do whatever I can to help find April,” she says, her eyes softening. “Beyond giving statements. Even if it’s just helping you organize notes, or maybe talking over different details. I have to do more. I can’t just be organizing cookie fundraisers. I want everyone in the state to know her name.”
I bite back the no that threatens to snap out of me.
“You’re still healing,” I say instead.
She scoffs and shakes her head. “That’s true, but I’m healthy enough to be given multiple orgasms every day,” she mutters.
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that,” I snap. “It’s a part of the suppressant withdrawals.”
“You understand guilt more than anyone else,” she counters. “You understand what it’s like to have it eat you alive. I need to do more. I can’t just be being coddled and spoiled?—”
“It’s what you deserve,” I snarl. “You haven’t even been out of the hospital a week. Of course, you’re going to be taken care of.”
“But I can do more. I have to do more.” Her hands shake as she clutches her coffee cup, another sign of how badly she needs to rest.
“Do you understand the impact of what you did an hour ago? Do you have any idea how helpful that is? That every detail you gave Ben brings us closer to saving everyone, not just April? What more could you possibly do?”
“Everything,” she snaps. “I could do everything and anything to get her back.”
No. Absolutely not. You’re staying at home while we take care of everything, I want to say to her.
But we’re more alike than I thought. She’s stubborn and determined, but to her detriment.
It’s admirable, but infuriating.
“I won’t let you be put in harm’s way again,” I say simply. “You’ve been through enough.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe you could use me as bait, and then I could find out where?—”
“Over my dead fucking body,” I snarl, and her eyes widen.
Shit. I’m scaring her again.
Rein it in. Be honest with her.
“Listen to me,” I say lowly. “When I worked Lauren’s case, it was all I could think about. I didn’t think I was doing enough. It fucking destroyed me, Skylar. It fucking ruined me. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I stopped living. No matter what you do, it’ll feel like it won’t be enough. But using you as bait? Thinking you should go undercover? It’s never going to happen.”
Her scent sours, and it’s my fault.
“But,” I continue, “there are other ways that you can help April that won’t be harmful to you. Once you heal.” I emphasize the word, and she scowls. “I won’t let this destroy you, Skylar. Trust me when I say you’ve done more than enough.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and it makes my fucking chest ache.
“I have to find her, Vincent,” she whispers. “Please don’t make me sit aside.”
But I can’t guarantee her anything. “I’m always going to choose your safety,” I tell her. “I can’t not.”
Her shoulders slump, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit on earth.
