Page 43 of What Remains

“Yeah?” she breathes out.

I raise my brows. “Are you looking to forget what happened tonight again? You know, by teasing me?”

Her smile says it all, but she can’t help herself. “How am I teasing you?”

She damn well knows that eye-fucking me is such a “her” thing to do just to mess with me.

“Troublemaker, I swear.” I’m also willing to do anything and everything—short of kissing her—to make her feel better and forget the horror of the night.

“I have no clue how you keep doing it. You just make me feel better. Like what happened was all an illusion. A bad dream. The abduction. The fake bomb. My stolen rig.”

She skipped right over the part neither of us will ever forget.

And now I’m back in that room, with his hands on her and his belt undone. His breath on her skin.

It takes her joining me on her feet and setting her hand on my chest to haul me back to the here and now.

“Beating so fast.” She walks her fingers up to my shoulder before her hand skims down my biceps.

Every muscle in my body goes taut. She wants to forget, to feel normal, and I just . . .

“I was too late. He never should’ve⁠—”

“Oh, E.” She throws herself at me. Hugging me as if I’m the one who was almost hurt. “You weren’t late.”

I nuzzle the side of her neck with my nose. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

“Trauma can be a two-way street. We’ve been through a lot together. The crash and now this,” she whispers, her words sliding across my heated flesh.

She’s doing it again. Back-seating her pain for someone else’s, dammit. But I don’t want her doing that for me.

“You’re allowed to hurt, too. Not just physically, like your back is . . . but what you had to witness. It can’t be easy, you know, as my friend.”

Friend. My stomach punches from the inside out. Wyatt’s daughter. That reminder sinks in hard and fast, but I’m unable to let go of her.

“The things you had to do to get me out of there, too. I can’t imagine.” She’s sniffling. Probably crying again.

And that’s on me. She was smiling and distracted, and I pulled her back into the dark abyss.

“I don’t feel bad about killing them,” I say like a confession. Like she can absolve me of my sins. I doubt killing those monsters counts as one. Might have to consult my sister on that if I ever work up the nerve to open up. “I’m just so sorry he ever⁠—”

“But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because of you.” She eases away, forcing me to lift my head to find her eyes. “I’m not going to let that bastard take anything from me. I refuse to. My stubbornness can be a good thing sometimes. So, please, don’t let him take anything from you, either.”

I cup her cheeks, catching some of her tears with my thumbs. “You don’t have to put on a mask and act like you’re okay for me. You get that, right? I understand you’re tough and a badass, but you⁠—”

“I know.” Her smile vanishes, and she nods.

“This is a safe place. You’ll always have a safe place with me. As your friend, of course.”

Friend—the word still tastes strange on my tongue and sounds just as awkward in my head.

“I appreciate that.” She’s sucking her bottom lip, nerves getting the best of her.

What is she going to ask me? What has her so nervous?

“Just, um, tell me this means you’re coming back.” Her voice catches on the last word.

And there it is. But am I back?