Not because he didn’t feel.
Because he did.
Because whatever he felt when he looked at me was so enormous that it had immediately begun turning itself into decisions.
I wanted to move.
I wanted to scream.
“Tobias?” I whispered desperately, my voice barely more than air.
His name came out like a question, but I didn’t know what I was asking.
Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.
Tell me he fell.
Tell me you found him.
Tell me there’s an explanation.
Tobias released the man’s leg and took one step down from the platform.
Ben swore, catching more of the weight as the man’s shoulder struck the platform with a wet, sickening sound.
“Cove,” Tobias croaked.
“What…” I tried, but the words broke apart before they became a sentence.
Tobias took another step down the stairs leading to the top of the tank.
I took one back.
His gaze flicked to my movement.
“I left my phone,” I whispered.
The absurdity of it hit me at the same time as the horror.
My phone.
I had come back for my phone.
I had borrowed Mrs. Alvaro’s, paid for an overpriced rideshare, badge-scanned through two gates, let the driver leave, walked through Tobias’s quiet house, all because I had wanted my stupid phone before morning.
And now there was a man half-draped across the edge of the box jelly tank.
“Cove,” he said again, my name sounding broken and rough, like it was clawing up from his chest.
“What did you do?” I asked quietly, silently pleading for him to talk his way out of this,needinghim to.
He didn’t respond, though, and I felt something shatter inside of me.
“Tobias,” Ben warned, still holding the upper body of the dead man.
Wasit a warning?
Or a plea?
