Chapter 69
I can’t get the images out of my head – of Riley trying to force himself on me, of Mave’s lifeless body bleeding out before me, and of the fear on Jayce’s face when he made that request to me before he died.
It’s a constant loop of nightmares, despite me being fully awake.
It incapacitates me, tightens my chest to the point where I can’t use my lungs to draw in air.
And when I close my eyes, the exact same images come to life.
I can suddenly smell Riley’s breath as he tries to lean into me.
I can feel Mave’s ice-cold hands grabbing mine as he looks at me with pain on his ashen face, his throat punctured by a bullet wound.
And I can feel the weight of Jayce’s final words, and how much they mean, both to him and to Dorran.
Speaking of Dorran…
He’s been standing outside in the rain ever since Eddie dropped us at Finesse a few minutes ago.
I had asked him to come up to his loft, but he’d refused.
I had wanted to insist, but I also didn’t want to trouble him, so I’d let him be.
I know exactly what he’s going through right now, and even though leaving him alone has been gnawing at me, I had to do it.
I guess it’s because I, too, needed some time to myself – to think, to forget, and to push myself to move forward.
And so, when I’d entered the loft, I’d all but slumped against the living room wall – knees pressed to my chest, and my arms wrapped around my legs.
I sigh and glance at a piece of tile in the leftmost part of the room. It’s beige, untouched and unbroken, and I fucking envy it. The idea of it makes me laugh a little, and I realize that I’m crying.
“Fuck,” I breathe, then slide my fingers into my sweaty hair and push them back.
My thoughts go back to Dorran. He’s out in the goddamn rain – all fucking alone. And I need to be there with him instead of cowering in a corner.
Solo has driven Alex and Varsha to his condo. He wanted Dorran and I to come with, but the former said no to the offer so fast, that you’d think Solo had suggested something outrageous. I don’t think I’ll ever fully figure him out in this lifetime.
I sniff, swipe my hands over my face, then get to my feet. My entire body feels weighed down, making me groan. I use the floor as a support and haul myself up, then stumble my way towards the small window in the living room. I’ve left Dorran to himself for long enough.
The day has set, and the grey evening light is casting dull shadows against the street, making the view before me a bit spectral. It’s still raining pretty heavily, and there he is – amidst the brutal sheets of downpour – standing right in front of his garage, unmoving; staring at nothing.
I swallow and let go of a breath, in turn fogging the window’s glass, then move away from it before making my way out of the loft.
He may not say it, but I know for a fact that Dorran needs me. Whether to simply be by his side and experience the loud silence with him, or to talk to him – he needs me. And I’m not at all hesitant to admit that I need him. More than I’ve ever needed anything in my life so far. No exaggeration.