She heaves out a shuddering breath. “There’s no service.”
“Room service? That’s ok, we’ll go over to the pub.” Maybe she’s Hangry? That’s a thing, isn’t it?
Slightly hysterical giggles leave her. I laugh too, but I have no idea why. I’m just so relieved she’s not in the dark place she was before.
“Not room service. Cell service...I can’t call Bree.”
Finally, something I understand. “Do you need to talk to her? Are you worried about something specific?” I can’t magically make a cell tower appear or chase this storm away, but I can talk.
“No...I just,” she shrugs, staring down at her lap.
“Is she still struggling after Tyler?” She jumps when I say his name. I can see the pulse in her neck flutter faster.
“Um...yes. I suppose she is. I just like to check on her.”
“You guys have been on your own for a long time, huh?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. I want her eyes on me. I’m tempted to say or do something shitty just to bring that fire of hers back.
“How are you doing after that night?” I mean, she’s not ok. But she’s so good at masking how she’s feeling.
Another giggle. This one sounds wrong, though. An edge of hysteria coloring it.
“That night. That’s what I call it too. It sounds better than...” she trails off, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. She drags in another shuddering breath. “It sounds better than the night I killed him.”
That word makes me flinch, and I know she fucking feels it. I tighten my embrace and pull back to look at her. “Killed him sounds wrong, Cara. The night you defended yourself, is more accurate.”
“Maybe,” she says hollowly, “but I don’t think it matters what you call it. In the end, he’s dead, and it’s my fault.”
Cupping her cheek, I tilt her face until she’s forced to meet my eyes. “You didn’t start anything that night. But, yeah. He’s dead. And I’m really fucking grateful for that.”
The crease between her eyes deepens. “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask. But I can tell by the lingering confusion in her gaze that it isn’t. “You’re still here. Still breathing. Still in one piece. He’s dead, and you’re here, and I’m glad.”
“You’re glad he’s dead.”
“I’m sure it’s not PC for me to say that. But he attacked your sister. He attacked you. He was not a good guy. I can’t imagine anyone would blame you for what happened that night.”
Another tear falls. “The District Attorney wants to blame me.”
“Yeah, he does. And that has nothing to do with you. Nothing. But you don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’ll take care of it.”
I mentally will her not to ask how. I’ve been sitting on a pile of shit, hoping the D.A. would do the right thing. But I’m done waiting for him. Cara’s hurting, and I won’t allow that to continue. But I should have known better because Cara is not the type of woman to let a comment like that go.
“Explain,” she orders me, making me smile despite the seriousness of this moment.
“You don’t need to know the details. Just know that all of this will be over, and you won’t ever have to think of it again.”
Her mouth scrunches up. “I wish that were true.”
“It’s true, Cara. I will handle it. I’m done sitting by.”
“It doesn’t matter if I end up in prison or not. I’ll still have to live with what I did. He’s someone’s kid, you know. There’s some mother out there crying because he’s never coming back. That won’t just go away because I’m not charged with a crime.”
“No,” I say stiffly. “I guess it won’t.” That doesn’t mean I don’t wish it would. “Are you still struggling with sleep? Moving didn’t help?”
She wipes the sleeve of my hoodie over her eyes, then drops her hand back to her lap. “It helped. Sort of, anyway.”
