Pretending She's Mine

He closed the door and was gone.

Seven

Asher

My eyes burned they were so tired. I had caught up on the Westbrook Securities’ reports Mickey had sent over. Agnes let me know that Journey had eaten a few bites of dinner, but turned most of it away. I didn’t know whether that was caused by a physical lack of appetite or her stubbornness.

I punched the pillow behind my head. Nothing was comfortable. I turned off my tablet and tossed it next to me on the king-size bed.

There were no updates from the police. Nothing from Dante. It was as if we were in a remote part of the world, cut off from all communication. It was much worse than that, though. No information meant the killer was roaming freely and I wasn’t any closer to catching him.

I reached for the switch on the lamp next to the bed when I heard footsteps in the hall. They were fast and heavy. Frantic.

The door to the bedroom flew open just as I reached for my gun.

Journey panted. Her hands gripped her neck. There was a wild look in her eye that was somehow both childlike and feral.

I jumped from the bed and rushed to her. “What happened? Are you ok?” I scanned her body for signs of her incision bleeding.

She waved my hands off her.

“I-I remember pieces of it. I didn’t before, but it just…I had a memory of yesterday. It hit me. Out of nowhere. I-I don’t know what to do.”

I let my palm fall to her lower back and I guided her to the edge of my bed.

“Sit. Take a deep breath.” I walked over to the dresser and poured a glass of water for her. “Here. Take a sip.”

She clasped the glass in her hands and drank. I waited for her to finish.

“What do you remember?” I took the seat next to her, trying to give her space to breathe. The mattress bounced beneath my heavy frame.

Her eyes darted back and forth.

“I don’t know how I could have forgotten. How did I forget something like this? Something like being shot? What is wrong with me?”

“It’s all right. You hit your head pretty hard, and with the combination of drugs for the surgery and sedation to travel, I would expect anyone to have the same reaction.”

“But not you. You remember every horrible thing that happened to you overseas.”

“This isn’t about me right now. We don’t need to dredge that up. Tell me. What do you remember?” I tried to pace my words so she didn’t feel rushed. I didn’t know if it would help to tell her that the memories hadn’t all come home with me in one package. They hit me in spurts. Just like this had happened to her.

Journey began to rattle off her account of the shooting.

“I was leaving the gym with Tristan. It was barely light out. The sun was starting to come up and I teased him about how evil he was for making me work out so early.” She paused, staring at her bare feet. She was wearing a T-shirt that hung off her shoulder. She had raced to my room so quickly she hadn’t added pajama bottoms. I tried to keep my eyes off her thighs.

“He told me it would all be worth it once I started the award circuit. He said, ‘you’ve got this’.” She held her breath. “I was getting ready to tell him as soon as the awards were over we were going to sit on the deck and eat gallons of ice cream together. But that’s when I heard the gun. It didn’t register that that was what the sound was. I know what guns sound like, but not at the gym. Never at the gym—it didn’t fit. I screamed. I think I kept screaming. I’m not sure exactly. I don’t remember what happened next.” Her voice cracked. “I think. Maybe…”

“What is it?”

“I think I remember blood. There was blood on my hands. I was washing my face before I got back in bed and the warm water…” She shuddered. “Oh God.”

“It’s ok. You are ok.” How did I help her? She wouldn’t let me touch her. I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t lock the door and promise the darkness would never find a way inside.

“Tristan? Did he? Is he ok? Where is Tristan? There was so much blood. I can’t get it out of my head.”

I knew what she was going through. I knew the trauma wouldn’t ease up anytime soon.

“He’s still in the hospital. He jumped in front of the gunman. That’s why the bullet grazed under your arm. I’m also anxious for him to wake up. I need to interview him.”