Page 42 of Nothing At All

Josh straightened from the passenger seat of the first car, Dan’s seatbelt fastened, his head on the rest, eyes closed. He was so pale, and the bruises stood out under the harsh lighting in the bay. Josh’s gaze slid over my face, his expression softening.

He jerked his chin toward the second unit. “Vic’ll follow. You can ride with her. You staying with him?”

“Yes.” I squared my shoulders. Was there even a question?

“Okay.” He shifted his gaze to Vic behind me. “Let’s go.”

In the patrol car, I watched Josh’s brake lights, trees and houses blurring together under the streetlights. I couldn’t quite get enough oxygen, a hint of panic fluttering at the base of my throat, fluttering through my belly. Vic didn’t speak, the soft crackle of the police radio covering the muted roar of the engine and the hum of tires on damp streets.

I released a shuddery exhale, hands twisted together in my lap.

Moments later, we pulled into Dan’s drive. His apartment remained dark, although the garage light was on and the motion sensor lights kicked on with our arrival. Next door, every light at Nicole’s house blazed despite the late hour.

With low murmurs and more of those chuckles that tightened the senseless anger buzzing under my skin, Josh and Vic maneuvered him from the car and supported him up the stairs. I trailed behind, casting one glance over my shoulder at Nicole’s. A curtain fluttered and was still.

Inside, Josh eased him onto the bed and helped him wrestle free of the shirt. With a nod at me, he nudged Vic toward the door. I threw the deadbolt behind them, and we were alone.

Fingers linked, I hovered in the bedroom doorway. Dan sat on the bed, staring at his boots. “Can I help?”

“Will you untie those?” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Chest hurts.”

I dropped to kneel at his feet, fumbling the laces free. The upper didn’t give, and he leaned forward, loosening the laces with a finger, a deep grimace twisting his mouth. I hurried to do the same with the next boot, my chest caving with inadequacy.

I was so not good at this.

Wrapping a hand around the heel, I tried to tug a boot free. He waved a hand and toed the first one off, then the next. I set them by his dresser, neatly side by side.

With a rough sigh, he lay back on the pillow, an arm over his eyes. I eyed him, the belt at his waist, his watch on his wrist. “Do you want to take off-“

“No.” He shook his head. “Just want to shut my eyes. Head hurts like a motherfucker.”

“All right.” I clicked off the lamp, the glow from the living room spilling through the door. Shifting one foot to the other, I ran a hand through my hair. The nurse said something about prescriptions, but we didn’t have those and–

“Lay down with me.” The sleep-slurred mutter might have been an entreaty or a command. Kicking off my own shoes, I crawled up the bed to ease into his side. He dropped an arm around me and pressed me close, mouth against my forehead. His chest shuddered. “Glad you’re here.”

I buried my face against him, sweat and deodorant and antiseptic filling my nose. Tears scalded my eyes. “Me, too.”

I woke before he did, sunlight creeping in to draw me from an uneasy sleep filled with dreams I didn’t remember. Snoring quietly, he slept on, one arm thrown above his head on the pillow. I watched him a moment, timing his breaths, watching his face for a flinch or grimace.

Planting a careful hand on the mattress, I eased off the bed and slipped into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, I started a pot of coffee brewing – he still had one of those old-fashioned drip machines and he made it so strong I could hardly stand it. While it bubbled, I rooted through his small refrigerator and came up with eggs and cheese to go with the half-loaf of wheat bread and avocados on his counter. When he woke up, I could make him the avocado toast he liked, topped with scrambled eggs and a slice of tomato.

Weight pressed in the center of my chest, squeezing my lungs. I could make him strong coffee and a protein-rich breakfast, start his day the best I could. He was here for me to do those things. He was here, and so was I.

I poured a cup of coffee and added milk to lighten it. Standing at the window, I sipped, eying a lone dove hopping along under the spirea at the corner of the yard. Its partner fluttered down, the pair of them strutting over the grass.

At Nicole’s the curtains along the back windows rippled, then opened. The glass reflected the morning light, so no one was visible inside.

A muffled groan sent tension racing up my spine to the base of my skull. Quiet footsteps shuffled on the floor, and I spun to look at him, fingers clenched around the mug, one of a pair he’d picked up at the state park where we’d gone hiking on an early date.

The bruises under his eyes had darkened, a harsh reddish-purple extending beneath the pale green splint.

My company sold those. Maybe I’d even sold that one to the hospital.

“Morning, baby.” He scuffed a hand over his nape.

“Hi.” Energy surged up from my feet. I set my mug on the counter, coffee splashing over the side. I flung myself in his arms, cringing at his muffled oof, and buried my face against his shoulder.

He tightened his arms around me and rested his cheek on my hair. I held on, palms flattened over his spine. His chest rose and fell against mine. He rubbed his jaw over the curve of my head. “Love you.”