Page 19 of To All the Guys I Killed Before

“She’d be so proud of me.” The words I’m too tired to hold back slip right out, full of bitter self-loathing. “I’m following in her footsteps.”

Fi’s already shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Because I made such good choices tonight.”

She shifts to sit next to me on the couch. “Mom was reactive. Never a plan, just killing her johns because she was bored or she wanted the cash in their wallet to take us out for burgers.” She sighs and rubs my back in slow, soothing strokes. Fi hates talking about this, but she’s willing to do it for me. “Just because you had sex with some guy tonig⁠—”

“We didn’t have sex!”

“Okay,” she says, not slowing her gentle movements. “Just because you held a prayer circle with some guy tonight, that doesn’t make you Mom. We have a methodology. We have each other.”

“You’re right.” The awful pressure in my chest loosens. Jennifer Alsop would never have poured hours into identifying, researching, and eliminating one evil man, let alone come up with a system to do it over and over and over again safely as more evil men revealed themselves.

Of course, she never would’ve promised anything to a man who was getting her off. I made a promise and broke it the first chance I got. Yay, methodology?

“Okay,” I say a little too loudly. “Mystery guy’s going to handle Marshall, and Bart and I will be the ones called in to investigate it, so no matter what evidence we find, it’s going to be ruled an accident. That’s the end of it. That’s the new plan.”

Fi nods. “And your boyfriend?”

I drag my hands down my face. “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

“Still,” she says. “He could really fuck you.”

“He absolutely could,” I agree with a slow grin.

Fi glares, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile of her own. “I don’t like this. I mean, I’ve never really liked any of your boyfriends, but⁠—”

“Wait, even Greg? He was a good guy!”

“He was a lawyer,” she says, as if that’s reason enough. “But the anonymous murder man you met in a closet could be framing you right now.” She’s spinning herself up again, walking the room in circles. “I’ll kill him, Rue. I’ll figure out who he is, and I’ll end him before he hurts you.”

Her ferocity makes me grin even wider. “You want your first kill to be my mystery closet guy?”

“Yes!” She slaps a hand down on her desk, knocking over the jam jar she uses as a pencil cup. “I’ve got the footage from Marshall’s place! I can find him from that.”

That wipes the amusement right off my face. “No.”

“I’ll kill him if I think he needs killing!” she yells. “You’re not the boss of me!”

We both freeze for a beat, then dissolve into giggles.

“I think I am the boss of you, actually.” I wipe my streaming eyes. “I’m older.”

“By nine minutes!” Fi protests.

“Those are nine crucial minutes.”

She responds by flinging herself onto the couch again and wrapping her arms around me. I press a kiss to the top of her head and hug her back.

“Not this guy, okay?” I say into her hair. “For one thing, he’s twice our size, and that’s all you’re going to see on your footage: a big guy dressed in black. For another, I truly don’t think he deserves it.”

Imagine if it’d been Fi in that closet tonight, not me. Gomez would’ve had her spun around and out the door in three seconds. Or worse, she’d have been the one he put his hands on, and if he’d made her come the way he did me⁠—

Bile burns in my throat at the thought, and I’m almost entirely sure it’s fear for her safety and not petty jealousy over a what-if my brain just coughed up.

“Fine, I won’t kill him if it’s so important to you.” She straightens and makes a show of pushing her glasses up her nose. “Now tell me, neighbor girl,” she says in a nasally whine, “how did tonight’s felony break-in make you feeeeeeel?”

“That’s a frighteningly accurate Dr. Bore,” I say with a laugh.