“When you think about Saylor, what scares you more—that she might get hurt, or that she might leave?”
The question cuts straight through every defense I’ve built. Because the truth is, I can handle the thought of fighting off the Crow, of protecting her from external threats. But the idea of waking up one morning to find her gone, having decided that I’m not worth the complications I bring to her life?
That terrifies me in ways I don’t have words for.
“Both,” I admit. “But if I’m honest... losing her scares me more than anything else.”
“And there it is.” Jay’s smile is gentle, almost proud. “You love her, Blue. For the first time in your life, you’re in love.”
“That’s not—”
“It is. And the sooner you accept it, the sooner we can figure out how to help you not screw it up.”
I stare at the chaos of his office, at the certificates on his wall, at anything that isn’t his knowing look. Love. Such a small word for something that’s rewiring my entire nervous system.
“Assuming you’re right,” I say carefully, “what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”
“You need to stop pretending this is just about teaching her self-defense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re in love with her, and you’re acting like her personal violence tutor instead of telling her how you feel.” Jay leans forward. “Blue, she stabbed someone at your dinner party. That’s not normal girlfriend behavior.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Exactly my point. What is she? Your student? Your protégé? Your revenge partner?” Jay takes on that patient tone again. “Or is she the woman you’re in love with who happens to want to learn how to kill people?”
I don’t have an answer for that, which apparently is answer enough.
“So what do I do?”
“Tell her you love her. Stop hiding behind murder lessons and start having actual conversations about what you both want.” Jay picks up his stress ball, squeezing it thoughtfully. “And maybe stop acting like a serial killer with a teaching certificate.”
“Serial killer with a teaching certificate,” I repeat. “That’s going on my business cards.”
“I’m being serious, Blue.”
“So am I. It has a nice ring to it.”
Jay hurls his stress ball at the wall with more force than usual. “You’re impossible.”
“But I’m your favorite impossible patient.”
“You’re my only patient who brings dinner guests in body bags, so the bar is pretty low.”
My phone buzzes with a text before I can respond. Wren’s name appears on the screen, and I swipe to read her message.
Had to come to town for supplies. Need to head back. Can you give Saylor a ride home? She’s at Toil & Trouble.
The woman has a restless soul and can’t stay put, I think, already standing.
“Problem?” Jay asks.
“Wren needs me to pick up Saylor.” I pocket my phone. “She’s at Toil & Trouble.”
“Blue?” Jay calls as I reach the door. “When you see her, try using words as your love language instead of murder.”
“Right,” I say, already heading for the door.
