God damn.
Chapter Four
Swift
It didn’t take much to move Britta back into her apartment.
No boxes.No hauling furniture.No back-and-forth trips that took hours.
Just one woman, one careful step at a time, walking through her own front door, and me grabbing my black duffel from the backseat.
That was it.
Tempi had shown up not long after we got settled.She’d brought food, talked too loud, hovered too much, and tried like hell to keep things normal.I respected it.Britta needed that.
We all did.
She’d stayed through supper, filling the apartment with noise and sarcasm and the kind of energy that kept things from feeling too heavy.But even Tempi couldn’t fight exhaustion forever.Half an hour ago, she’d finally left.
And Britta?
Britta had made it exactly three steps from the kitchen to the couch, kicked her feet up on the coffee table, and passed the hell out like someone had flipped a switch.
Now the apartment was quiet.
I stood by the living room window, one hand braced against the frame, the other holding a cigarette.I’d cracked the window just enough to let the smoke out, the cool night air slipping in and brushing against my skin.
State Street stretched out below, alive in that late-night way.
People moving.Cars rolling past.Laughter drifting up from somewhere down the block.
Normal.
Or at least what passed for it.
I dragged in a slow breath, the burn of nicotine settling into my lungs as I scanned the street like I’d been doing for the last hour.
Every face.
Every car.
Every movement.
Nothing stood out.
And that was the problem.
A knock sounded at the door.Sharp and unexpected.
My body reacted before my brain had time to catch up.
I turned, cigarette still between my fingers, eyes cutting toward the couch.Britta didn’t move.Didn’t even twitch.She was out cold.
Good.She needed the rest.
Today had taken a lot out of her.
Getting dressed.Walking.Talking.Sitting upright for more than ten minutes at a time.All things that used to be nothing, now they cost her.
