What She Did

by Veronica Larsen

  My heart screams in my ears, punching away at my chest, filling me with an insane need to thrash around. Am I dying?

  "Stay still," one of the voices urges. "You're going to be okay."

  "Dale," I groan out. "It's Dale."

  "It's okay," someone else says. "Help is here."

  Reality settles into place with each breath I take.

  Dale. Is he dead? Where's Mrs. Lowery?

  And Sebastian? Where's Sebastian?

  These questions don't help calm my heart. I can't stop from trying to look around me in an attempt to gauge my surroundings. I'm out in the street, in front of my apartment. There are multiple police cars and ambulances.

  A hand nudges me down again, gently. But I still try to look around. My neighbors are gathering, a police officer trying to push them back as he pulls out a line of yellow tape.

  "Is she awake? Let me through," someone yells.

  "We're taking her to the hospital, sir. No--sir, you can't--"

  A hand wraps around mine. I recognize the touch, somehow, even though I didn't even recognize his voice.

  Sebastian's face comes into view overhead, the world behind him blurring as he jogs at my side.

  "Fuck," he says. "I'm so sorry."

  Seeing him is like taking a breath and I'm dizzy from the rush of oxygen. But the pain in his expression hurts more than anything I've ever felt. And those eyes, so warm and familiar, are swimming in an ocean of what if and I should've. I forget momentarily that I'm in pain. That I'm bleeding. I want to soothe him.

  "Don't be sorry. It definitely isn't you," I say, my voice a croak.

  He laughs and relief floods his face. And I somehow know he thought, right until this very moment, that I was going to die. We come to a stop and a hand grips his shoulder from behind, pulling on him, but Sebastian resists.

  "I'm here," he says. "I'm right here."

  His relief is so beautiful to watch that I want to say something else, but I'm distracted by a second gurney being wheeled past me. Multiple paramedics surround it, working on Dale even as they move toward the second ambulance. I catch the tiniest glimpse of his pale face, eyes shut. Clothes drenched in blood.

  He looks like he's within an inch of his life.

  "Is he going to die?" I ask the people around me.

  No one answers. Maybe they don't hear me. They are counting to three. At three, the gurney I'm on falls for a fraction of a second before it lifts again and I'm pushed into the ambulance.

  Sebastian refuses to leave my side and I refuse to let go of his hand. No one looks happy about it, but getting me to a hospital seems to be the priority over arguing with him, because the paramedics give up.

  My head spins and spins, tumbling in a downward spiral that darkens the edges of my vision. The pain grows fainter and fainter. My fingertips tingle, as though they are cold.

  I shut my eyes.

  "I think...maybe I'm dying," I say.

  Are those going to be my last words?

  Stating the obvious?

  I almost laugh.

  "No you're not. You're a goddamn fighter."

  Sebastian's voice hooks around me like an anchor, keeping me in place.

  In a safe place.

  CHAPTER 44

  Reed

  THE HEART IS NOT AN organ I've ever had to keep tabs on. But tonight? I know exactly where it is. It's in my throat. It's balled up there and won't let up.

  She's in bad shape. I saw it the second my eyes fell on her. Her clothes were soaked with blood. The paramedic's gloves were soaked in blood.

  It was a blood bath.

  I don't let go of her hand until we arrive at the hospital. My badge is a useless piece of metal in my pocket as I watch Amelia being wheeled up to surgery. I stupidly blurt out I'm her husband in hopes of being let through. But I'm not let through.

  Instead, I'm crowded by people asking me questions I can't begin to answer. If she has allergies. If she has any medical conditions. I don't know. Panic seeps in.

  Was my lie about being her husband going to get her killed? But right now, that lie is my only lifeline to her. The truth? It would leave me out in the cold, without any information on how she's doing.

  "I already told you I don't know," I say, running a hand through my hair.

  The nurse that spewed out the latest question gives me an exasperated look and heads off to her station. But another nurse gives a reassuring headshake and pats my back. I'm sure I look pathetic, crumbling at the thought of losing this woman. A woman who, a few weeks ago, I had no idea existed. And now? Now her existence takes up every corner of my mind. Thoughts of her fill me up. A fuel unlike any other I've experienced. I need to know she's going to be all right.

  The anger that grabs hold of me is unlike anything I've felt before in my life. I was in her parking lot, watching her apartment, thinking I was keeping her safe by sitting out there, when all along the danger was already inside. God. Even when I knocked on her door and begged her to hear me out--she was trapped in there with him. I can't imagine what she's gone through. I don't know what I would've done with myself if she had died in that apartment, right under my nose.

  But she didn't. She's still fighting. I have to believe she'll pull through, because the alternative sends me into a tailspin. It was him. The security guard from her work. Who would've thought he'd be capable of all this? He was always cooperative and the very definition of harmless. A wolf in sheep's clothing. But there was one thing he didn't count on. Amelia's a fighter. So much more than I ever dreamed.

  I must fall asleep in the waiting room, because I wake up to someone nudging me gently in the shoulder. It's a doctor.

  "Sir, your wife is out of surgery."

  I am on my feet before he gets the second word out. I'm still half-asleep and my response comes slow, eyes squinting, mouth opening seconds before I can gather words. But I don't need to speak. The doctor tells me she's in stable condition. The knife nicked a major organ, but the damage was contained. I won't be allowed to see her until after she's taken to recovery.

  I sit back down, sure there are questions I should ask that don't occur to me. I've only been her fake husband for a few hours and already I'm dropping the ball. Stupidly, I picture her face, a hesitant smile breaking into a small laugh. And that soothing thought carries me through the next few hours, until I'm allowed to go back to see her. She looks so small in that hospital bed. Her petite frame drowning in the large, shapeless hospital gown. She looks the way she did when I first met her. Except, worse, so much worse. Because she was just a stranger then, and now? She's everything.

  I take a few steps toward her bed and realize she's awake. She's staring out the window on the other side of the room.

  "We've got to stop meeting like this."

  She startles then relaxes when she sees it's me.

  My relief at seeing her, awake, with her chest rising and falling in slow steady breaths, slips slightly at the sight of her sadness. I sit beside her and take her hand in mine in one move.

  "They won't tell me if he's dead," she says by way of greeting.

  I can't lie, my stomach does a strange sinking move. I don't want to talk about him. But it's clear by the urgency on her face, it's important for her to know.

  "Don't worry about that right now."

  "Sebastian, there was so much blood."

  "I know. But you're okay. You're okay."

  I say it twice. First time for her. The second time is for me. I examine her with my eyes, taking in the sight of her beautiful face. One of her eyebrows has been stitched from a cut, a bruise clear around it. There is more bruising on the side of her face, going into her hairline.

  She sees me looking at it and raises a hand to her eyebrow, fingers tracing over the stitches. "Is it bad?"

  "It's bad ass. You're going to have one of these scars," I say, touching my own brow. "It's going to say, don't fuck with me, to everyone who sees it."

  Her lips twitch, though her face remains ti
red. "Sure it will."

  "Some couples get matching tattoos. We have matching scars."

  "Couples?" she asks.

  I take her hand, still wrapped in mine, and bring it up to my lips.

  "We're married for as long as you're in the hospital," I say.

  "All right, that's doable."

  "And after..."

  "Yeah?"

  "You're going to have a hard time getting me to take my eyes off of you for a while. So, if you don't mind, I'm calling dibs on you, until you're ready to talk about us."

  She shakes her head. "You're so romantic."

  "Fucking dibs." I grin and kiss her hand again. "I wanted to call dibs the moment I saw you, but that would've been highly inappropriate."

  Her smile brings a warmth to my chest. But then I have to watch that smile fade.

  "I need to know."

  "Huh?"

  "I need to know if he's dead. I need to know if I killed him."

  Something about the way her eyebrows furrow tells me that she herself isn't sure if she wants him to be dead. I get it. She's fighting between the fear that he's still alive and possibly still a threat, and the terror that she's responsible for taking another life. It's heavy shit. Not a load I ever wanted for her to carry.

  All I know is, he better fucking be dead.

  "Rest for now," I tell her.

  CHAPTER 45

  Amelia

  THE NEXT TIME MY EYES open, the pain is gone and the sudden absence of it scares the crap out of me. My heart races then slows when the hospital room comes into focus. The pain comes, creeping up on me like it was just on a different frequency.

  I groan and Sebastian jolts awake from the chair beside me. He relaxes when he sees everything is fine, and then says, "Hey."

  His eyes are heavy with fatigue as he rubs them. I feel guilty for waking him.

  "You should go home. I'm fine now. I can't go anywhere."

  "No way in hell you're getting rid of me."

  I lower a hand over my abdomen, where I can make out the bandages under my hospital gown.

  "Do you think it would've hurt less if I'd gotten shot instead of stabbed?"

  He glares at me. "We are not having this conversation."

  The nurse comes in and checks on me. She has a carefree aura as she chats with both Sebastian and me about inconsequential things, like she's a server about to take my order at a restaurant. So nonchalant, she makes me feel like there's nothing unusual or unpleasant about me being here. Her presence brings distraction and comfort.

  Before she leaves she says, "Someone will be in shortly to finish your paperwork." She gives Sebastian a sideways glance, and adds with a small smile, "Your husband couldn't answer many of the questions. Or any, actually."

  "He's always forgetting things," I say, as I lay my head back and turn it to Sebastian. "Ask him how often he forgets to take the garbage bins out for trash day."

  The nurse smiles and busies herself writing in my chart. Sebastian doesn't say anything, just shakes his head and watches me with a fierceness pouring from his eyes, as though all he wants is to kiss me right now.

  When the nurse leaves, I say, "Do you think they wonder where our wedding rings are?"

  "I'm sure they do, but maybe we're one of those progressive couples. Maybe we've got matching tattoos."

  "Or matching scars. Maybe we marked each other on purpose."

  "Yeah. You've left your mark on me, for sure."

  His words settle slowly and a flutter rises from my abdomen to my chest.

  "By the way," he says, grabbing a remote on the bed beside me, "you haven't seen the news yet, but..."

  He turns on the small television overhead and flips to the news. The anchor is interviewing someone at City Hall, but at the bottom of the screen, the news ticker scrolls with the text: Mayor Connolly announces he will not be seeking reelection amidst allegations of corruption and sexual misconduct. Five other city officials are under investigation, including the former chief of police, Ronald Sterling.

  "Connolly dropped out of the race. You tackled some big fish. Congratulations."

  I stare at the screen. It's all so surreal and before I can think of what to say, a sudden knock makes us both look up. Emily stands at the door, the distress on her face frays at the edges when she sees me.

  "Jesus freaking Christ, Amelia."

  She storms toward me.

  "I know," I say, lifting a hand to keep her from going off on me. I've been avoiding her for the past few days, trying to keep her out of this whole mess before the shit hit the fan. "I know. I'm sorry."

  Emily cuts in, "Imagine, a best friend who had to hear from her cop boyfriend that her best friend was attacked. Then her best friend alluded to a government conspiracy, and breaks into the mayor's home office to steal naughty photos. Then started avoiding phone calls. Again. I was this close to showing up at your place and barging through your front door."

  "Today wouldn't have been a good day for company."

  She jabs a finger at me. "Not funny." Then she turns to Sebastian. "Where were you?"

  "Emily!" I gasp.

  Sebastian's jaw ticks and my chest stings. Because I know. I know he's beating himself up for not bursting into my apartment sooner.

  "Trust me," he says, "I'm not letting her out of my sight again."

  Emily shuts her eyes for a second, clearly seeing his remorse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just...I can't believe that little shit was behind all of this. I met him, he seemed harmless."

  "He had me fooled, for sure," I say.

  Sebastian gets to his feet when Owen walks into the room.

  "Grant."

  "Good to see you again, Detective."

  Owen seems to be on official business, dressed in his police uniform, but he shows no signs of hurry as he goes to stand beside Emily.

  "Are you okay?" he asks me.

  "I'm fine."

  "Have the police been in yet to take your statement?"

  "Just you," I say.

  "That's not why I'm here," he points out. "Just wanted to check on you."

  He says it like we're closer than we really are.

  It's one of those snippets of clarity, where I witness a moment as though from outside of my own body, appreciating it for what it really is. I've always accepted the fact that I don't have family, resigned to being the kind of person with no one to list under my emergency contacts, yet here I am. With Sebastian, who refuses to leave my side. And Emily, who marched in here like an overbearing, overprotective sister. My heart fills to the point of bursting and maybe I'm just overly emotional from the recent events, but I have to look down at the sheets around my waist to keep my eyes from watering.

  "I haven't been out," Sebastian says. "What can you tell us, Owen? Anything?"

  "We've got eyes on him," he says.

  "So, he's alive?" I ask.

  Strangely, relief floods me. Not because I care about Dale, but because I don't want his blood on my hands.

  "He's in the ICU. But he's talking. The moment he pulls through, he's going in a cage. He waived his rights to an attorney."

  "Idiot," Emily blurts out.

  We all stare at her.

  "I mean, that's great," she says, half-laughing. "Sorry, I just cringe whenever I hear that."

  Sebastian looks completely lost.

  "Emily's an attorney," I explain.

  "Only idiots talk to the police," she says. "I mean, no offense, I love you guys, obviously." She clears her throat then looks at me. "Anyway, I'm glad he's an idiot. I'm glad you won't have to sit through a trial."

  Those words bring me even further relief. Dale will be going away, hopefully for a very, very long time. Parts of me still tremble at all I've had to go through because of him. But he didn't win. The fact that the asshole clung to life is the least he could do for me. If he dies, let him die in a cage, or at the hands of a soulless criminal in prison. Not at my hands. Not on my conscience.

  Fuck hi
m.

  I'll never be the same after what he put me through. He put me in a psychological cage, he deserves to be trapped in a literal one.

  Warm tears roll down my cheeks. I flick them away with my free hand, embarrassment blasting me like an oven burst open in front of me. Everyone goes quiet and I keep my eyes downward to avoid glimpsing any of their expressions.

  "We'll leave you to rest," Owen says. "I'll tell them you're not ready for the statement yet. Come on, Emily."

  Emily resists Owen's gentle tug. She comes over to me and kisses me on the cheek. "I love you," she says.

  I'm afraid to talk and reveal the shake in my voice, but she gives my free hand a gentle squeeze, and I manage to give her a smile. I hope that's enough.

  "Hey." Sebastian takes my hand in his.

  I meet his beautiful eyes and fight back the lump in my throat. I hate that we met during these times of uncertainty. I hate that he has seen the worst parts of me. My suspicion. My panic. My tears. I hate that we didn't start a relationship on a clean slate. And yet...I'm not sure I would've ever allowed someone close to me if I hadn't already been wounded. I needed to be shaken before I could lay my armor aside, even for just a moment. And in that moment, Sebastian slipped in and gave me a taste of what I want.

  I want...him. I want us.

  CHAPTER 46

  Amelia

  THE MEDIA CIRCUS SURROUNDING MAYOR Connolly's debauchery is prolonged and salacious, yielding the resignation of half a dozen city officials. Connolly holes up in his home, seemingly intent on riding out his last few months in office despite the criminal charges and public outcry for his resignation. Former Chief of Police Sterling is revealed to have been accepting bribes in exchange for leniency from the police. The district attorney is flanked by the press at every turn, as she handles what have to be the largest cases of her career.

  I've pored over every detail reported about the story. About my story. The one I broke. The one that turned into a media feeding frenzy. My phone rings non-stop and I'm called for interviews before my stitches even have a chance to come out. Every time a call comes in, I fear the glare of the media lens has finally turned to what happened between Dale and me. Because I know, I know it's only a matter of time before those details become part of the circus.