Page 180 of Gilt

“I am?” I hadn’t noticed.

He rubs my shoulders, allowing me to sit quietly in the midst of chaos. I’m aware of the officers and agents sweeping the scene for evidence. I wince as a camera flashes, but I don’t move.

I’d collapsed there moments after it happened, and I still can’t bring myself to get up. Not while strangers piece together the last few moments of my best friend’s life.

A medic comes over and explains that I might be in shock. I nod, not bothering to tell him that I don’t care. When he suggests that I lie on a stretcher, Jameson intervenes.

“She’s fine,” he says firmly.

“It would be best if—”

Jameson cuts the man off before he can get any farther. “I know what’s best for her.”

I stare at him, and then slowly, I lift my hand to his. I need him to anchor me while my world spins out of control. Later, we’ll discuss what happened. Later, we’ll deal with it.

Later, I’ll feel something other than numbness.

The silence is interrupted by the click of heels across concrete. I can hear each purposeful step coming closer. Jameson straightens, but I don’t bother to look up.

“Emma.” Agent Mackey’s voice is unusually gentle. I find myself wishing she would scream. “We have a few questions.”

“I’ll be happy to talk with you later,” Jameson interrupts.

“We really need statements from both of you.” She’s straining to keep her voice soft. She wants to scream.

I don’t blame her.

“We can arrange for her to make a statement in a few days.”

“Given the situation, I would think you’d be eager to get this behind you,” Mackey finally snaps, unleashing her inner dragon.

“It is behind us,” Jameson says, his tone remaining even, “which is why my lawyers will be in touch in a few days.”

“Mr. West,” she starts.

“You can speak with my lawyers.” He leans down so that only I can hear. “I want to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home,” I mumble. At most, I’ve always had pillars, and now that one of them has fallen, I can’t stand on my own.

“I’m your home,” he reminds me. “Do you want me to carry you?”

When I don’t answer, he lifts me into his arms and carries me away from this nightmare. He drives us into the mountains to the closest thing either of us has to a home.

That night he holds me against him. No words pass between us, even though neither of us sleeps. The clock on the nightstand slowly counts the minutes, and I watch each one drain away. One moment snuffed out for eternity. When the first light of dawn slashes across the horizon, it seems impossible that the sun will ever rise again.

It does, anyway.

AFTER

Dr. O’Donnell never asks me how I feel, which is the only reason I continue to see her.

Her office is decorated with framed Rorschach tests. I still can’t decide if the one hanging over her desk is a dog or an elephant. She won’t tell me what that means.

She takes her seat across from the couch and crosses her legs. There’s no notepad, and I don’t lie down. Mostly, we talk.

“Have you cried?” she asks gently.

I shake my head. I’d cried at the funeral. Seeing Marion bury her daughter had broken me into pieces so small that there was no room for tears any longer.