That startled a laugh out of me. “You collect strays?”
“Only the mouthy ones with trauma and great taste in shoes.”
We sat in silence after that, the kind of silence that didn’t demand anything, that only good, old friends could pull off. I sipped the coffee she brought me, feeling it settle in my chest. Outside the window, the sky had started to lighten, the darkest part of night softening into the first hint of morning.
That meant I’d been here for almost twelve hours…and I wasn’t going to be discharged until tomorrow?
This had been serious.
I could’ve died.
Delilah rose a few minutes later, squeezed my shoulder, and said, “Sleep. I’ll be back at noon.”
And then she was gone too.
I leaned back against the pillows, alone again but notlonely. The coffee was cooling in my hand. My wrist still ached. My body still felt foreign.
But for the first time since the bite, I wasn’t spiraling.
I was stillhere.
I set the coffee aside, pulled the flannel from the arm of the chair, and pressed it to my chest.
Then I closed my eyes…and I prayed.
For Silas.
For Amelia.
For me.
CHAPTER 10
Silas
I had fucked everything up.
That was the thought echoing through the rafters and streaming through the stained glass window as I scrubbed the floor in the sanctuary, grumbling to myself about what an asshole I’d been. I was halfway convinced that, if I just scrubbed hard enough, she might walk through that door again.
But she hadn’t.
Not since the clinic.
Because I’d sat at her bedside, waited for her to wake up, planned on apologizing…and instead, I’d made her feelguilty. Somehow, because apparently I was a goddamn fool, I’d managed to shame her for what we’d done that night when all I wanted to do was hold her again.
This was my fault. Not hers.
And yet.
I didn’t even know why I was still here—why I was cleaning up the wreckage, scrubbing away the years of mold and memory, peeling back layers of rot. This church was an evil fucking place; the snake in my bed was proof of that. Ihadn’t been able to sleep a wink here ever since that night, crashing on Beau’s couch instead.
My hand slipped on the cloth.
A splinter bit into the pad of my thumb.
“Motherfucker,” I cursed.
I rocked back on my heels, thumb between my teeth, trying not to lose my temper. Blood welled from the pinprick splinter, bright and accusing.
