Page 27 of Love Again

Devon lifts her head, and her face is wet.

Now I sit up. “Devon, what? It’s okay. I understand.”

She shakes her head. “No. You deserve so much better than me.”

“What are talking about? Stop. Please stop crying.” I put an arm around her shoulders. She tucks her wet face against my neck.

This time, the wave is from tears and it’s much harder. Devon doesn’t know how to cry. She starts gasping and sobbing, her face a mess. She hangs on to me like she’s desperate to find purchase in the middle of some internal storm.

I force us back down on the bed as she sobs, her body spasming with every intake of breath. I keep stroking her hair, her face, her arms, not trying to get her to stop, but to remind her I’m right here with her.

I don’t know how long she cries. At one point, the front door opens and closes. Keller is home.

He won’t dare poke his head in.

Finally, the sobs start to subside. In their place is a terrible series of shaking sighs. I hand her tissues from the box by the bed.

She is limp in my arms and, I think, half asleep. I kiss her temple, where a light blue vein beats quietly. Her hair is matted with tears, her skin salty.

Our bodies are warm and she is spent. Utterly exhausted, she rolls to her back and takes my hand in hers. She locks our fingers together again.

“I’m sorry,” she says, hiccupping gently. Her eyes and nose are so red, I want to kiss them.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Luke, I’m afraid. I’m afraid.” Her face starts to scrunch up again, and her body goes rigid.

“Shh, shh. You don’t have to talk.” I smile. “I won’t try to make you talk.”

Devon holds her breath for a moment and then exhales, trying to reclaim some composure.

“I’m afraid,” she says, squeezing my fingers with hers. “I’m afraid someone else is going to die because of us.”

“That was an accident, Devon. The worst kind. The most heart-ripping kind.”

“You cared more about me than yourself. You put yourself in harm’s way, and then he went in to look for you.”

“You would have done the same thing.”

Those green eyes brighten, glitter. And a tear slips down the side of her face.

“That’s the problem.”

΅

“She okay?” says Keller, shoving a huge mason jar of water at me from the corner of the counter.

I nod. “She’s sleeping now.”

“That was a full-on breakdown. Didn’t know she had it in her.”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“You know, I get no credit around here for anything. I wasn’t going to tease her about it. Jesus, Luke.”

I shake my head, pull open the fridge, and look at the beers.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says and slams it shut.