"I don't think we ever are." I straighten and wipe my hands on my pants.
“You know this is all your fault,” he says with a grin. "Why couldn't you find one of those well-adjusted Greek billionaires who are into S&M?"
I choke on a horrified laugh. "I'm not really sure how to respond to that."
He laughs. "Just trying to help."
I suck in a deep breath again. "You know how they say God doesn't give you more than you can handle?" I glance over at him. "I wish he didn't trust me so much."
"You and me both, sister."
"Stay with me?" I swallow a hard lump in my throat. "In case I break."
"You won't break. But I'll stay."
We walk down the halls toward Caleb’s room. I'm glad they let us back without much trouble. And by not much trouble, I mean they search my purse, but not Graham’s pockets. I'm too tired and worn down to even summon the anger over the disparity. Maybe someday. But not right now. It's not worth the fight.
I pause at the edge of the curtain separating Caleb’s space from the other bed. Eli meets us and pulls Graham into a quick man hug. “Thanks for coming down,” he says to Graham.
I frown. “I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
“Eli is trying to poach me away from the Baywater,” Graham says. “I’m about ninety percent on board.” He pauses. “Is Josh still here?”
Eli nods. “He’s going to be pissed at me for this. But sometimes…sometimes.” He clears his throat and glances over my shoulder.
Josh is stopped at the end of the corridor. A shadow in the brilliant fluorescent light.
For a moment, I think he is going to walk away. That he is going to turn and leave me standing there before I get any chance to say anything at all.
I don’t want to do this with an audience, though.
Graham squeezes my shoulder as I slip away.
A thousand emotions flash over his face as I walk toward him. A million more crash through me.
Was it only yesterday I'd seen him? Only yesterday that he'd resurrected all my fears, all the nightmares from my past.
I can barely breathe. But I will not run away. I will not be weak and cowering.
I stop in front of him. “I wanted to check on you.” My voice is thick and rough with fear.
“I…” For a moment I think he’s going to tell me to leave. That he doesn’t want me here.
I try to take a deep breath and brace for the fresh renewal of hurt.
I don't know what he'll say. What can he say that will take away the hurt?
“Can we go somewhere?”
I nod. Because I cannot walk away from this. However it ends, I need to know there is nothing I could have done to save things.
I step into the cool darkness. The air is heavy and moist. I want a sweater and a cup of coffee.
I want to keep walking. But I don't. Because I need to know. I need to know why.
I stop near a bench. Close to the bus stop. Near the stairs to the parking garage where those who can't afford a valet walk to their vehicles.
My heart is tight in my chest.
I'm waiting. For the hurt to get worse.
For the end of what we might have been.
My heart hurts from the loss, but I've got too much pride to beg him to tell me what happened between us.
Part of me, the part of me that is always waiting for the people in my life to let me down, has adopted an I told you so mentality. That this was bound to happen, and it's better that it happened now before I really fell hard for him.
But the other part of me hurts and the hurt is real and painful and worse than anything that ever happened since I lost my dad.
That maybe, this time would be different.
I was wrong. I always was.
I sit next to him on the small bench. Close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. Close enough that I want to curl into him.
Now, though, he's sitting beneath a street lamp. His head is down, cupped in both his hands as rain mists down around him.
I'm afraid. I wish I wasn't, but I've seen this movie. The one where the na?ve fool approaches the guy she's worried about only to discover he's some soul-stealing vampire or something.
But I'm not that girl anymore, and I will not be afraid of monsters in the dark.
There isn’t a monster looking back at me. There is only despair.
My heart cracks a little, even though I'm pissed at him.
Only now, there's an edge of fear mixed in it. Because I cannot think of anything else to do, I sit next to him. I pick up his hand and thread my fingers with his. It's such a simple, empty gesture.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know." Josh makes an ugly sound. His fingers tense around mine. Silence stretches between us. His hand is heavy on mine. Heavy and rough and solid. Warm and real. He's here. And that's got to mean something, right?
Silence again. Until I cannot hold back the question burning inside me.
He drags his hands over his face, leaving them there. It is forever before he speaks.