But I don’t say any of that.
Instead I just whisper, “Deal.”
I don’t fall asleep. I can’t.
Instead I exhaust myself watching her breathe until the sun comes up.
In. Out. In. Out.
My breathing matches hers. Synchronizing. Like if I breathe with her, she’ll stay alive. Like I can keep her here through sheer will.
But somewhere in this city, a woman’s body is being disposed of. A murderer sits at Denny’s, eating pancakes. Dom is cleaning evidence.
And Monday, I have to go back to work and pretend I know nothing.
Monday, everything changes.
But tonight—tonight I just watch her breathe.
And hope that’s enough.
Seven
When I wakeup the next day, it’s to Alex crunching on cereal in bed.
“Morning.” Her voice is way too chipper.
She’s already dressed—jeans and one of my hoodies—and has her tarot deck spread on the bed between us.
I groan and pull the pillow over my face.
Crunch-crunch-crunch.
“What’d you pull?” I ask eventually, giving up on more sleep.
She flips it over. The Tower. Lightning striking a burning building. People falling.
“Hmm.” She frowns at it.
“That’s not good,” I say.
“It’s just upheaval. Change. Things falling apart so they can be rebuilt.” She sets it aside on the nightstand, but I notice she leaves it face-up. “It’s fine. Sometimes the Tower is necessary.”
And just like that, Dom and his mystery client are on my mind all over again.
“Uh oh.” Alex peers at my face. “What’s wrong?”
I blink up at her. How do I even start?
“Dylan.” She sets the bowl aside. Turns to face me fully. Her whole body angling toward mine. “Talk to me.”
I roll out of bed and head toward the bathroom. “Pee first.”
She rolls her eyes, but I need a minute to think about this.
I shut the door and sit on the toilet, doing my business while my mind races. What do I tell her? Do I even want to get her involved? If I do, then it’s all in.
Or do I pretend it never happened and let some innocent girl...
