I blink and realise I’m still clutching Isaac’s hand. It’s slick with blood, but it’shis. I force myself to let go.
The paramedics drop to their knees beside him and work quickly. One starts cutting off his t-shirt, the other checks for a pulse. Their voices are low but urgent, numbers, codes, instructions I can’t keep up with.
I back away slowly until my spine hits the wall. My whole body is shaking. The air feels too thick, too hot.
A police officer crouches down beside me. He’s talking, but I can’t focus. The wordsknife,wound, andscenedrift through my head, meaningless.
“Miss, can you tell us what happened?” he asks gently.
“I… I don’t know,” I manage, voice breaking. “I just… I just got home. The door was open. He was—” My throat closes. “He was just there.”
Someone brings me a blanket and wraps it around my shoulders. It smells like disinfectant. My world becomes a blur of movement—gloves snapping, lights flashing, a stretcher wheeling in. I can’t look.
“Time of death,” one paramedic says quietly.
The words slice straight through me. Everything stops.
I shake my head, covering my mouth. “No. No, he’s not—you can’t stop—” The sob tears out before I can hold it back.
The officer glances away, his expression softening. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry.That’s all anyone ever says when it’s too late.
I sink to the floor again, pulling the blanket tighter around me, and the only thing I can think of over and over, is that I left him alone. I chose wine, banter, and Warren Baxter over my brother.
Now Isaac’s dead, and I can’t undo any of it.
A police officer offers me a kind smile as she sets a cup of tea down in front of me. “I know you must be in shock,” she says gently.
I’ve been at the station for hours, and I’ve told her everything I can. About Isaac’s busted knees, the shady new job, and how he turned up at my place needing help. My voice is hoarse from repeating it all.
I pull the scratchy blanket tighter around my shoulders and take a small sip of tea. It’s too hot, but I welcome the burn. At least it’s something I can feel.
I’m tired. Confused. My brain’s foggy, and my body feels like it’s shutting down. All I can think about is my mum and Jordan and what they’ll say when they hear. How they’ll fall apart the way I’m trying not to.
The police are still at my apartment, combing through every inch. I was brought here hours ago, though time doesn’t feel real anymore.
“When can I go home?” I ask quietly.
The officer shakes her head. “You’ll need to arrange a place to stay for a few days. Your apartment’s a crime scene. It won’t be released until the investigation team is finished.”
I nod slowly, staring at the tea as my stomach churns.
Then my phone buzzes across the desk, making me jump. Warren’s name flashes on the screen.
He’ll be wondering where I am with his cup of coffee and croissant.
I answer, but he doesn’t even give me the chance to speak before his voice cuts through the quiet room. “Where the hell are you? I’ve got back-to-back meetings all day. Are you avoiding me because of the kiss?”
The words hit like a slap. Of all the things he could’ve said.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say flatly. “I’m taking some time off.”
I hang up before he can respond.
“Your boss?” the officer asks.
I nod.
