When I stepped inside, the ammonia bit my sinuses. The usual barking started, but this time it hit a higher, more desperate pitch. Emily’s head jerked up at the noise, and she flinched so hard she nearly dropped the pitcher. I forced my body language soft, hands out, like approaching a skittish rescue.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice lower than usual.
She didn’t look at me. She focused on the slow arc of water into the next dish, missing half of it. “Thought you’d be busy with club stuff.”
“Not till later.” I leaned against the counter, careful to leave space. “I figured you’d be home.”
She shrugged, then reached for the mop with a too-quick motion. “We’re down three staff, and Taryn’s in the hospital. Someone has to clean up the mess.” Her voice was flat, just a notch above monotone. She wrung the mop with white knuckles, and I recognized the afterburn of adrenaline still cycling through her system.
A mutt in the corner started in with a series of barks, sharp and repetitive. Emily’s hand jerked, and the mop handle snapped against the sink. She cursed, then gripped the edge so hard her nails left crescent moons in the laminate.
“Rough night?” I asked, but it came out half-joking, half-patronizing.
She finally looked up at me, and her eyes were still ringed in yesterday’s makeup, lashes spiked and clumped like wet feathers. “I didn’t sleep.” She pulled her mouth into a smirk, but it broke halfway. “Too busy deleting security footage.”
I smiled. “We covered our asses.”
There was a pause. The hum of the air conditioner and the low, uncertain whimpering of a dog behind the door filled the silence. I could see the exact moment she remembered everything—how I’d caught the knife, how I’d bled onto her, how we’d fucked in the back kennel like the world was going to end. Her face flushed, but she held my gaze this time.
I wanted to ask if she was okay. Instead, I let the silence grow until it forced the truth out on its own.
“You should go home,” I said, gentler than I meant to. “It’s not like they’re going to fire you for one day.”
She bristled, chin up, mouth set. “I can’t. The place is barely holding together as it is.” She started mopping again, a little less violently, but I could see the tremor in her forearms.
The bell over the door jangled, and a round woman in a Humane Society t-shirt waddled in, arms loaded withdonation bags. She took one look at Emily’s face, then at me, and frowned.
“You all right, hon?” she asked, setting the bags down.
“Fine, Marsha,” Emily said, not missing a beat, but her knuckles were still white.
Marsha looked at me with the scrutiny of a mother bear sizing up a problem bear. “You the biker from yesterday?” she asked.
I nodded.
Marsha grunted. “Well. Thank you for saving her, I suppose. Though you could’ve done without all the extra drama. Why don’t you take her for a walk, clear her head?” It wasn’t a suggestion. “You’re no good to these animals if you’re jumping at shadows, Em.”
Emily started to protest, but Marsha cut her off. “Out. Now. I’ll watch the desk.”
Emily blinked, then let the mop fall, water pooling around her boots. She opened her mouth, maybe to argue, but then something cracked in her face, and she let out a laugh—a thin, watery sound that was more relief than amusement.
“Fine,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans. She didn’t look at me as she walked past, but when I followed, she didn’t tell me to fuck off, either.
Out in the parking lot, the sun was merciless. Emily squinted and ducked behind a shade structure, rubbing at her wrist like she was trying to erase last night’s handprint. I followed, keeping a careful step behind.
“You don’t have to ride with me,” I said, thumb hooked on my belt loop. “I can drive you, or walk, or whatever.”
She glanced at the bike, then at the sky. “If you think I’m climbing on that thing after last night, you’re insane.”
I grinned, hoping it would ease the tension. “You could walk. But I think you’d regret it after the first block.”
She rolled her eyes, then snorted. “Give me a helmet.”
We walked to the bike in silence. She paused at the curb, watching the heat shimmer above the pavement. I saw her take a deep breath, then another, like she was psyching herself up for surgery.
She climbed on behind me, arms wrapping tight around my waist. The pressure was desperate, almost painful, but I let her hold as hard as she wanted. I fired up the engine, and the vibration ran through us both, equal parts comfort and threat.
As we pulled away, I watched the rearview. Emily’s eyes were closed, face pressed into the leather of my jacket. She held on for dear life, but this time, I didn’t mind. This time, it felt like she was holding me together, too.
