“Mill.” It’s a whisper, Hollis’s breath hot against my ear. “Are you okay?”
I sniffle and try to wipe away evidence of my tears with my forearm, but I’m still crying so it’s kind of like using windshield wipers during a monsoon. “Peachy,” I manage.
Hollis lets out a soft, emphaticdammitbefore his hand settles on my upper arm, heavy and warm through the cotton of the T-shirt. “Mill, I’m sorry. I’ve been a complete bastard all day, and I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. Tell me what to do to make it better. I’ll do it. Whatever it is. I hate it when you cry. It makes me feel... panicky.”
“When have you ever—” I manage before the congestion in my sinuses forces me to swallow, cutting me off.
“That night at the party, when you came out of the restaurant. You were crying pretty hard then.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I barely knew you—we’d only met in passing a few times—but I could tell that you were this bright, sunshine sort of person. Seeing you cry... it’s like watching the sun flickering out. Like I’m getting a preview of the apocalypse. A horrible glimpse into a world that’s colder and darker—”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a writer,” I say through my tears.
A chuckle rolls through his chest and I can almost feel itagainst my back. He’s so close, but only his hand connects us. “Please don’t cry. I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, to make it better. I’ll even...” He pauses as if thinking something over. “Ha. Sure, why the hell not.” Hollis makes a small, resigned groaning sound and I sense him leaning closer. And then a quiet, familiar melody floats into my ear. “Don’t let the sun... go down on me...”
Laughter rises up in my throat, but I push it back down, settling on a huge grin instead. Hollis is singing Elton John to me, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing so in an unironic effort to cheer me up. The last thing I want to do is spook him, which I will definitely do if I burst out laughing like I want to.
“I just realized... I don’t know any of the other words...” he continues, still loosely clinging to the tune.
I can no longer keep my amusement hidden behind just a grin, and permit what I can only describe as a childish giggle. To my relief, Hollis sighs and says, “A single ray peeking through the clouds, but I’ll take it.”
Finally, there’s a break in my tears. I reach for a tissue on the nightstand and blow my nose into it. “The live version with George Michael is my favorite.” I sniffle.
“Yes, I know. You mentioned that several times when it came on in the car.”
“Wait a second.” I roll onto my opposite side to face him. I’m full of regret when his hand slides off my arm and he shifts a few inches away to give me more space. “You did remember me from that night at Josh’s party. At the airport earlier, you acted like you didn’t.”
He raises his right shoulder in a shrug that presumably would be joined by the left if it wasn’t buried in the mattress. The cornersof Hollis’s mouth shift ever so subtly into a smirk. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
I give him a shove, but despite the force of it he doesn’t move. Instead, I’m just pressing my hand against his chest until I realize the thumping against my palm is his heart. Suddenly, the moment feels like it’s turning into amoment, like the one on the hood of the police car, so I pull my hand away and let it fall to the mattress between us.
“I am sorry, Millicent,” he says. “I meant what I said about us being friends. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. I’ll try to be less...”
“Of a dick?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” I stare at my hand, counting the chips in my nail polish to keep from having to make eye contact. “Though, while I’d appreciate that immensely, that’s not why I was crying. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the whole reason.”
“Elsie?”
I manage a nod.
“Ah. Right.” He bites his thick bottom lip and looks to the side as if contemplating the problem. Hmm... I wonder if that lip would feel good betweenmyteeth. No. This is not the time to get distracted by his lips. Not at all the time. Elsie is dying. Elsie isdying.
“What if she’s gone before I get to her because of all this?”
“Then... I guess you did the best you could.”
“That doesn’t feel like enough,” I whisper.
“It’ll have to be.”
I sigh. “And the deer. What if it doesn’t make it? What if I killed it? What if ithauntsme?”
“Then we’ll call an exorcist. With the amount of deer that die of unnatural causes, I bet they’re extremely used to taking care of this kind of thing.”
