Until April (Until Her 6)

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

I look up at Kenton and feel my nose start to sting. I know I should be stronger right now, but I can’t even imagine how Meghan’s family and friends will feel when they find out what happened to her.

“Yeah,” I lie, and he rests his hand on top of my head, making me feel like a small child. “Do you want me to call your mom and dad?”

“No.” I look at my bag still at my feet. My phone has rung a few times, but I haven’t even bothered looking at it. “I’ll call them when I get home.”

He lifts his chin, then asks quietly, “Maxim said you called out her name. Did you know her?”

“Yes.” I clear my throat. “I mean, we weren’t really friends, but I have hung out with her at a couple of events. She was sweet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” I say quietly, and his eyes soften, then he looks to the right as Maxim walks toward us, his concerned gaze locked on mine.

“We can take off. If the cops need anything else from us, they’ve got our information,” he assures, and relief washes over me. “Thanks for coming out.” He gives Kenton a one-arm hug, and when he lets him go, the two of them turn to look down at me.

“Call if you need anything,” Kenton says sternly.

“I’ll call.” He gives me a soft look, then pats Maxim on the shoulder before he walks off toward his truck.

“Ready?” Maxim asks a minute later when he’s behind the wheel.

“Yeah.” I put on my seatbelt as he starts up the engine and rest my temple against the window, the coolness of the glass helping to relieve a little of the ache in my head.

“You’ll be home soon.” His hand wraps around my thigh and stays there as he drives. I want to grab on to him, but I fight the urge.

When we get to my house, he parks behind my car once more, and as soon as the doors open, I get out and head up to my walkway. I let us into the house, take off my shoes, and carry them up to the second floor, dropping my bag on the kitchen island. “Can you please make sure to lock the door when you leave?” I ask over my shoulder, but I don’t wait for him to respond, don’t look at him. I take the stairs up to my room, where I strip out of my clothes and toss them in the laundry basket.

I open the glass door of the shower, turn on the pipe, and get in under the cold water, relishing the sting it causes before the water heats up. I close my eyes, and the image of Meghan’s naked, bloodied body causes hot tears to fill my eyes.

I have never been someone to live my life in what-ifs, but I can’t help but wonder if we could have saved her had we just been on time. Maybe, just maybe, that wouldn’t have happened to her.

Cool air hits my back, and a moment later, strong arms wrap around me from behind. Without thinking, I turn in Maxim’s embrace, bury my face against his solid chest, and cling to him as I cry, not caring if my tears make me seem weak.

“I need to get you out of here,” he says gently when the water starts to cool, and I let him lead me out of the shower. I bite my lip as he wraps a towel around his hips, then grabs another and begins drying me off.

“Thanks.” I take the towel from him and wrap it around myself, then head into my closet to get dressed. Wearing sweats and a baggie T-shirt, I walk through my room, noticing that Maxim’s bag that was in the chair in the corner of the room is now gone. Digging my nails into my palm I try to ignore the heaviness in my stomach as I head downstairs.

When I hit the bottom step, I spy him in the kitchen, wearing his jeans and T-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. His gaze meets mine, and I shift on my feet. I’m not used to feeling vulnerable around men, and it doesn’t help that we hardly know each other. “I should probably call my parents and some of the other realtors I work with so they hear about what happened from me and not on the news.”

“No problem. I’m gonna head out in a minute.”

“Oh… okay, cool.” I duck my head so he can’t see how disappointed I am and walk to my bag. “Thank you for everything.” I glance up quickly after I grab my phone. “I’ll let you know about what time and where we should meet tomorrow.”

“April.”

“Yeah,” I reply, not bothering to look at him as I head for the couch.