Page 87 of Quiver

“Sorry.” Fletcher released her.

“Don’t apologize.” Kylie went back to work quickly. “That’s the first time you’ve touched me on purpose in twelve years.”

“I don’t know. Things are fuzzy, but didn’t I hold your hand on the way to the hospital?”

“Okay, the first time when you weren’t in mortal danger.”

“When you’re this close, I’m always in danger,” Fletcher whispered.

Kylie closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.”

She paused. “Do you?”

She considered the question more carefully, then shook her head. “I’m not sure. God, Kye, I’m not sure of anything.”

“I get that.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.” Kylie kept sliding conditioner out from her scalp to the tips of her hair methodically, but Fletcher got the sense her mind wasn’t on the task any longer. “I don’t think I’ve been sure of much for a long time. There have been flashes of something like certainty, only they always disappear before I can grab hold.”

The concept felt familiar. “When was the last time?”

“In the truck, in the hayloft.” She met her eyes. “Right now.”

Fletcher’s mouth suddenly went drier than it ever had, her throat too. Kylie must’ve felt something similar because she wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

“I’m trying real hard right now,” Kylie finally said softly.

“Trying to what?”

“Do the right thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea.” Kylie finally looked away, a little growl rumbling through her chest, so close it vibrated along Fletcher’s body, too.

Kylie grabbed the faucet hose once more and started rinsing. She swirled the water around, and rustled Fletcher’s mop of hair as long as reason would allow, giving the sense Kylie didn’t want this to end any more than she did.

While moments like this between them did seem to be coming more frequently, the peace never lasted nearly long enough, and recently she’d clung to that fact. She used the violent returns to animus as a sort of inoculation, relishing the sharp sting as a warning of the inevitable, but tonight she longed to linger here, in the space that, if not quite weightless, at least cradled them in something softer than she’d let herself sink into for so long.

Still, eventually, Kylie shut off the water and used another towel to shake out and scrunch up the remaining drops clinging to them both like stubborn hope. Then the gentle hand at the base of Fletcher’s neck found enough firmness to lift her upright.

The flash of pain in her side faded as soon as Fletcher found her feet, but the dull ache in her chest as Kylie stepped back seemed like it might be here to stay.

Chapter Twenty

“Kye, baby, it’s on!”

She held the phone out from her ear and squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of what was happening. She didn’t even remember answering, but she must have, because her first hint of morning awareness came in the unmistakable voice of Mimi assaulting her eardrum. “What?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Sort of.” She rolled over and sat up in the guest bed at Fletcher’s, but her brain still rebelled against the prospect of working. She’d slept like the dead ever since arriving at Fletcher’s, and even though they hadn’t shared a bed since she’d accidentally dozed off on their first night back from the hospital, she couldn’t deny that something about this place, or maybe their shared proximity, contributed to a peace she hadn’t been able to summon for ages. She sighed happily as she stretched her arms above her head.

“Hey.” Mimi snapped her fingers as if Kylie were a dog whose attention had wandered. “What are you doing?”