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“Can you hear me?”
His fingers stroked her cheek. Lexie leaned into them, whimpering contentedly in response. They could have stayed like that for hours, or seconds, she had no idea which, but eventually, she heaved her eyes open once more, forced them to stay that way, as she looked around and waited for her vision to clear.
At long last, the dark blob in front of her materialized into Nico’s face. It was etched with concern. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadow and pain. His hair sat tousled and unkempt like he’d raked his hands through it a thousand times. The five o’clock shadow that usually framed his jawline had grown into a light beard. Yet, despite his haggard appearance, he was still her Nico, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, complete with the conspicuous scar on his forehead. Beyond him were pale blue walls, a white ceiling, and navy hospital drapes. Sunlight shone through a big window to her right, bathing the room in a golden glow. On closer inspection, there also appeared to be a drip bandaged to her hand, the same hand Nico was currently placing tender kisses along the knuckles of.
“Hi,” she croaked.
“How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
“Try not to move. I’ll find a nurse, get you some painkillers.”
He made to leave but Lexie stopped him by grasping his sleeve. “No. Please, stay. What happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “What do you remember?”
Lexie let her gaze drop, tried to think. She was locking up after work. Wade was there, but he had to leave. Didn’t he? Yes. Then she was outside by her car with Kyle. No, that couldn’t be right, could it? Her brain ached, but she pushed through. Wait, there was someone else there. Something happened . . . a burst of fear and recollection pumped something powerful into Lexie’s body. In a flash, she was lucid. Memories bombarded with each other, fighting for a place in her awareness, crashing down on her all at once. Blinding light. Gunshots. Esme. Kyle’s body. Pain.
“Oh!” she cried. Uncontrollable tears welled and fell, on and on, ceaseless and steady. She couldn’t stop them. Nico sat on the edge of her hospital bed and held her tight, stroked her hair, whispered soft words. Too engulfed in sorrow, Lexie could scarcely process what they were, but she took comfort in them all the same. When the torrent slowed, and the powerful racks of despair abated, Lexie’s body rested limply against his. With the gentleness one might offer to a baby, he lowered her back to the mattress.
“Kyle is dead.”
She didn’t make it a question, but Nico nodded anyway.
“I wished he would die so many times, but I never thought . . .” Lexie felt her chin tremble. “Does it make me a terrible person that I feel relieved?”
“No.” Nico paused. “I think what you’re feeling is only natural.”
“He loved me,” Lexie heard herself say. “In his own messed up way, I believe he did. He tried to save me.”
“It would explain why he put you through hell,” Nico replied, his tone carefully neutral. “Why he couldn’t let you go.”
Lexie nodded but refused to speak any more about it. She would say her goodbyes when the time came to lay Kyle to rest, but after that, she would think of him no more. He would be at peace, and she would be free.
More memories flashed. Panic. Fright. Cold metal in her hand. Pulling the trigger. Hearing a shot. An enraged body slamming into hers. Lexie saw herself struggling to keep hold of the gun, remembered it being ripped from her hand. Then nothing.
“Where are they now? George and Esme?”
Nico hesitated. “Dead.”
“Both of them?”
He nodded.
Nico took Lexie’s face in his hands. His eyes were intense. He looked tortured. "I’m so sorry. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. I came into your life, and I brought the devil with me.”
“The devil was already here,” she said, and that was the last thing she remembered saying before she woke up again hours later. Night had fallen. Nico was asleep in the chair beside her bed. Though visiting hours were no doubt over, Lexie was glad he’d somehow been able to break the rules and stay. When she shifted, his eyes flew open, and he was back holding her hand.
More flowers had been delivered while she slept.
“Who are they all from?” she asked.
Nico got up to read the cards aloud. Wade had sent a bunch of peonies, his scrawly handwriting saying the staff at Rusty’s was all thinking about her. Annie and Paul sent their love with daisies. A small pot of sunflowers from Cora Radburn’s garden came with well-wishes from the Mercy Cove Police Department.
“What about the Carnations?” she asked, enjoying the simple pleasure of forgetting everything else for a while. “Who sent those?”
Nico picked the card out of the pretty arrangement. “Well, that’s . . . surprising.”
