She’s not here.
I lean forward, hands on my knees, sucking down damp, spore-filled air, trying to ease the crushing pain underneath my breastbone.
We stand there, me bent over, Tobin awkwardly turned away, not making a move to come any nearer. We’ve never worked together more closely, or been further apart. Neither of us speaks. There’s only the wind and the trees, talking to each other.
Into the silence comes a rhythmic clicking sound, a rusty, clunky purr.
Yeti uncurls himself from the back of the highest corner shelf, picking his way delicately to the edge.
“Hey, buddy,” Tobin murmurs. Testing his weight first, he steps on the bottom shelf, ducking to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling. He hands Yeti down to me, then reaches toward the half-hidden back of the shelf for a bundle that looks like crumpled burlap in the dim light.
“… Uncle Tobin?” the bundle says sleepily. “Is it morning?”
I’m crying.
Tobin carries her out, and I call it in, and there’s a big blur of flashing lights, and Amber sobbing, and the ambulance pulling out with my sister and niece aboard.
I guess it’d be all right for me to sleep at Amber’s tonight. Considering. But Sharon said she’s a night owl, and to text her if I need anything.
And I need a place to stay. Stellar, too, if I’ve guessed right and she was planning to crash with me.
Tobin walks me back to the house, leading a proud Kris Kristofferson. I carry Yeti, who’s very content to snooze in my arms. He absolutely reeks, and now I do, too. I’m too tired to have the shampoo fight with him. Would it be so wrong to Febreze him, just till tomorrow?
“There’s no possible way to thank you enough for tonight. Oh, Tobe, your hands.” He’s scratched and bleeding far worse than me. “I’ll get Band-Aids.”
This pause is so awkward, with him shifting from foot to foot, not meeting my eyes.
I step back, stumbling a little. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Jason can take a look.”
He looks down for a moment, then up at me, eyes like blue lightning shocking my heart. “I’d appreciate it, actually. Jason’s probably busy with takedown, if he hasn’t left already.”
Ah. Right. I tell the wild burst of hope in my chest to mind its own goddamn business. It isn’t that Tobin wants me to touch him. He’s being considerate of Jason.
I stick Yeti in his carrier for smell reasons while Tobin washes.
After scrubbing my very sketchy, post-chicken arms, I take his damp hands in mine, resisting the urge to dawdle over my inspection. I dab on antibiotic cream, then pick out Band-Aids to stretch over the deeper scratches.
“Liz.”
“Yeah?” Peeling open the last bandage is a convenient way to keep my eyes off his face.
“You taking that promotion?”
I fumble the packaging. “Um, I haven’t had time to think about it. Craig asked me to save face at the awards ceremony, and I did, but… I wish I’d told him no. That was a screwed-up stunt he pulled.”
“You should take it.” His fingers flex in mine.
“I… What?”
“I watched you tonight. And I was thinking, I’m glad you won. You think of things other people don’t. The way you put facts together is totally unique. Craig made the right choice, even if it was for the wrong reasons. You’re just what this industry needs.”
He takes the last Band-Aid and sticks it over an ugly abrasion on my knuckle. “Anyway. I wanted to tell you, I’m, uh. I’m rooting for you.”
His hands slide away.
He tries to smile. It’s a heart-smashing six out of ten, his worst effort ever. But his eyes are on mine, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he sees me.
Heseesme.
