Page 117 of Forever Dead
“Yeah,” he said. “We hurt each other.”
Selena nodded. It was more than either of them would once have admitted.
Connor passed her the cane.
“Come on. I'll take you home.”
She let him walk beside her to the door.
*
Sleep did not come.
Selena had decided to try the bed again, tired of spending her nights in Eric’s recliner. She arranged pillows beneath her knee, but by ten-thirty she had changed position six times, read the same page of a paperback twice and stared at the ceiling long enough to start identifying tiny cracks in the paint.
Finally, she gave up. The motel reception was still lit when she made her way down with the cane.
Eric stood behind the desk adding figures to a ledger. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside him.
Eric glanced up. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
“Want some company?”
“For a few minutes.”
Eric closed the ledger.
He lifted the whiskey bottle. “Medicinal?”
Selena considered it.
“One, but I have to be careful. I’m on a low dose of meds.”
Eric took down two glasses.
“A slippery slope,” he said.
He poured a small measure into each and came around the desk. They sat in the two worn chairs beside the reception window.
Selena took a sip. Heat spread through her chest.
Eric raised his glass. “Want to tell me what happened?”
“Not much I can say about it.”
He nodded without pressing.
For a while they drank in silence.
Then Eric said, “I keep thinking about Miss Marsh.”
Selena turned the glass between her fingers. “Me, too.”
“She taught me for one year.”
“I thought she did.”
