Bonnie unlocks the door and twists the knob to open it, except she doesn’t actually answer.
I’m immediately taken aback as I push the door open wider.
I don’t know why seeing her apartment in disarray is a surprise when I watched her packing things already this morning. Still, it has me hesitating to speak, like the room is a reflection of her racing mind—
And she’s running around as if she hasn’t taken a breath since I left her a few hours ago.
“Good morning?” I say cautiously.
“Ah… hi,” she says, grabbing a bag. “Sorry. It’s a disaster in here. I haven’t been able to fully get a grip on this moving idea.” She stuffs a few shirts into the open bag from her bed, and I push my tender hands into my pockets.
“What can I do to help?” I ask.
“Nothing, I—”
She’s moving in circles, avoiding looking at me each time she crosses my path.
I finally reach out and grab her wrist, forcing her to halt and turn in my direction.
“Hey—Whoa—Stop spinning a second—You’re making me dizzy,” I say as my grip slackens.
Bonnie stares at my neck, her shoulders tense, cheeks pink like she’s embarrassed.
“Bonnie, what’s up?” I ask.
Because she won’t look at me.
And while I have an idea, I’m desperate to know what she’s been practicing saying for the last few hours.
Please look at me.
I need to see your eyes after last night.
I need this image more than I need the one of you on the floor.
She finally meets my eyes, and—Shit. She looks fucking terrified.
To the point that I’m scared I missed something last night.
Did someone call her? Come to her door when I wasn’t looking? What did I miss?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Her eyes suddenly widen, and it hits me that she’s staring at the cut on my head.
“Oh my god—” She reaches up to my face, her thumb hitting the stitched cut on my forehead. “Oh my god—Gemma, what happened?” Her gaze searches over the rest of me, finally landing on my hands, and again she says my name.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I say, taking my hands away from her.
“You’re bruised,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I brush her off. “Yeah. Duty can be hazardous sometimes.”
Her brows narrow. “Were you taking care of something for us?”
I hesitate slightly, eventually giving her as best of a reassuring smile as I can. “Something,” I say. “It’s just a few bruises. Nothing serious.”
Nothing, except I killed someone for us last night.
