22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
N az woke up alone. The comforter next to him was cold to the touch, as if Meg had never been there. Hating the thought, he rolled out of bed.
He found her sitting on the couch in the living room, her fingers gripping the small giraffe from the quarter machine.
On the coffee table were the sticky notes, the creases a little less obvious, as if she’d tried to smooth them out. Two were her “thank-yous,” one was the lip marks, and one was her apology.
Naz hovered near the couch. Her gave remained fixed on the giraffe.
“Meg?” he asked.
She let out a choked sound, rolling the giraffe in her fingers. “I like the way you say my name.” She lifted her head and stared up at him. Her cheeks were damp, but her eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.
He perched beside her on the couch, wanting to draw her into his arms but also not wanting to look away from her eyes.
Meg’s laugh slid through him, somehow both easing and tightening the ache in his chest.
“I’m not wrong, am I?” she asked. “You must have bought this after I shared my favorite animal with you. Maybe even bought it for me?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
Naz didn’t have an answer. He’d liked having the giraffe on him, having it and her notes. They’d felt like a weight in his pocket, even though they were as light as could be.
“It’s like you were carrying around a piece of me.” Meg took his hand, turning it so his palm was up before she placed the giraffe there, curling his fingers around it. “That makes me so fucking happy. You make me happy.” She scooted toward him, not letting go of his hand but leaning her forehead against his chest. “No one has ever made me feel like you do.”
Heat filled him to bursting. He wrapped his other hand around her and dragged her onto his lap, wanting her as close as he could get her.
They sat like that as time ticked on, just enjoying each other’s presence.
If he could be with Meg, remain with her from now on, it would always be like this.
“I wasn’t snooping. Not that you’d care, but in case you wondered.” She snuggled her head into his neck, curling her arm around him. “These fucking clothes.” Her finger plucked at the light blue polo he’d put on after he’d made a mess of the white one the night before.
“You seemed uncomfortable in them last night, so I wanted to wash the blood out of your regular clothes. Checked the pockets first, since you always have your phone on you.”
Naz circled her back with his hand in a soothing motion. He wouldn’t mind if she had been snooping. Not when it led to this. Not even if it hadn’t.
Naz would forgive her anything.
She pulled back, trusting him to support her as she bent over to grab his phone. She handed it to him before shifting off his lap and back to the couch cushion.
“I want to talk.” She pointed toward the phone. “Really talk. After the warehouse—” She frowned down at her hands.
He wondered how badly he’d scared her.
Meg twisted her fingers. “I’ve shared some really fucked-up shit with you, things I’ve never shared with anyone, but I don’t really know you at all.” Her eyes lifted to trace his face. “This version of you—the one who would buy a cheap toy giraffe because I said I liked them, the one who makes me feel safe. That’s the one I’m used to. But yesterday, it felt like you weren’t there anymore.”
He shook his head.
Meg frowned. “So you were still there?”
His hand tightened on the giraffe. He forced it open, staring down at the bit of rubber that should have meant nothing. He leaned forward, placing it on the coffee table to free up his other hand.
Then he typed out the question pressing at his throat.
‘Did I hurt you?’
Her eyes widened. “What? No!” She moved closer, curling toward him. Her head leaned on his shoulder.
“You didn’t hurt me. You saved me.”
The lump in his throat fizzled away.
“So you don’t remember what happened?”
He shook his head, bumping it against hers.
“You switched off so fast,” she said softly, remembering. “Your body was moving, but you weren’t really there.”
Naz shook his head again.
“Why do you keep saying no? You said you don’t remember.”
He stared down at his phone. Then he began to type.
‘It’s still me. I’m a killer.’
Meg made a frustrated noise in her throat. “You kill. I’ve seen you kill before that. But you’re not some killing machine. I mean, not usually.” The frustration seeped out of her voice, making it soften. “You were intent on killing them. And you moved so fast.” She swallowed, pressing into his side tighter. “Your eyes looked blank, and you attacked them with your bare hands. It scared me when you were shot and acted like you didn’t even notice. I thought you’d—”
Her hand clutched at his shirt, and he nuzzled his head against the top of hers.
Meg let out a breath, then extended her arm, studying the bruise on her skin.
Naz hated seeing it there, hated that he’d failed to protect her.
“I was so focused on you, I forgot Julio had been coming for me. It’s all muddled in my mind, but I know I screamed. Then you were there, and I was scrambling away, and Julio was the one screaming.” She shivered. “He screamed louder than I did.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m such a bitch. Remembering that is so satisfying now. At the time, I crawled under the table, hiding like a terrified child. So pathetic.”
He went to shake his head, but it still pressed against hers. “No,” he said instead, the word sounding stronger and not as jarring as his voice usually sounded.
“I was pathetic. I knew exactly what I was doing, but I couldn’t let them—” She groaned, her arm dropping into her lap. “I should have just fucked them instead of almost getting you killed.”
He pushed her away from him so he could see her face. She wasn’t crying. It was worse than that.
She was hating herself.
Her eyes were dull, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“No,” he said again.
Her head snapped up, and she glared at him. “Don’t you understand? I wasn’t thinking about you at all! I didn’t care if you died, as long as—”
He pushed her back into the cushions, hovering over her as his eyes glared back into hers. “No—”
“Yes! I didn’t—”
“—die,” he finished.
Her mouth snapped shut as her eyes widened in shock.
“No…die,” he said, the words faster the second time.
Naz understood the path she’d chosen. She’d taunted Julio using him, hoping that he’d kill her instead of what he’d wanted to do. She’d decided it would be better to be killed.
Like she said, she hadn’t been thinking about him, but Naz didn’t blame her at all.
“Meg.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against her forehead, even if it wasn’t an actual kiss. “Don’t…die.” The words moved his lips against her skin.
She made a sound, one like broken glass, and then her arms were on him, dragging him down to her, wrapping herself around him as tightly as she could. Her face pressed into his neck, soaking it in tears.
He tried not to give her his full weight, but he needed to hold her at the same time. He managed to shift them to their sides and not right off the couch, tucking her into his body, ignoring the ache from the gunshot wound.
She’d been driven by fear. If she was ever afraid like that again, he wanted her to use him in the same way. Because, yeah, she’d tried to goad Julio into killing her, but she’d run to Naz at the same time.
She hadn’t been worried about him dying, but he’d gladly die for her.
Anything to let her live even one more moment longer than him.
He wouldn’t want to live that extra moment without her anyway.
Meg’s sobs slowed into hiccupping sighs. She wiped her running nose along his strangling collar, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’m such a mess,” she mumbled into his body. Her legs shifted between his as her tension eased. “Maybe this works because you are, too.”
She tilted her head back, looking into his face. Her hand snuck up, the finger tracing along his cheek. “When you disappeared like that, I wasn’t scared of you. Not exactly. Not at all when I realized you’d still protect me over yourself.” Her finger drifted, finding his lips, brushing over them so lightly it should have barely registered, but his breath stuttered to a halt just to focus on it.
“I could have lost you. And it would have been all my fault.”
He’d been focusing on her guilt and wanting to erase it.
A different need rushed inside him as he realized what was behind her words.
Meg liked him. Not just liked. She valued him.
He wasn’t a piece of shit in her eyes. Or even something to be used, though she had used him.
She’d once said he made her happy.
It was the same for him. Her giggles, her smiles, her words, they all made him so fucking happy. Holding her, giving her gifts, taking care of her, all of that was happiness, too.
And he needed every part of what made up Meg to be his.
“So you don’t get to die either. Okay?” Meg said.
He leaned into her, pressing their lips together. Her lips moved, and he realized he was feeling her smile against him.
She let out a laugh, kissing him briefly before she snuggled against him again. “I’m starting to think you really like kissing,” she said, her voice holding a teasing joy.
Naz’s cheeks warmed. He pressed his hands against her back, wanting her even closer.
“I’m taking the kiss as agreement. You’re not going to die either. We’re stuck with each other now.”
Those were the best words she’d spoken to him yet.