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I got back inside and turned us toward the exit from the hospital complex.

“Can—” Elliot hesitated.

“Can what?” I asked him.

“Can we go to your apartment, instead of the house? Just for a few days?”

I glanced over in surprise. “Yeah, of course.” I hadn’t cleaned, and wondered how much food I had in the fridge, but I didn’t mind. “You don’t want to go back to the house?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

“I just…” He trailed off, then sighed. “I don’t want to have to worry about some asshat leaving me anything. Or running me over. Or doing something worse.”

I didn’t point out the fact that everyone in Shawano knew we were dating, although I didn’t know whether Ronda or Judy Hart was more likely to be the reason that the whole town was aware of our relationship status. I knew they were, though, because people would ask me how Elliot was or mention they hadn’t seen him in a while when I went literally anywhere—work, a hardware store, grocery shopping, the gas station…

I still hadn’t completely adjusted to the fact that the whole town knew my business—not because I cared that they knew I was dating Elliot, but because it reminded me unpleasantly of the tiny town I’d grown up in. One of the best parts about moving to Richmond had been my ability to be anonymous if I wanted to. I’d given that up when I moved to Shawano—but, I reminded myself, it wasn’t the same as the tiny community I’d grown up in outside Swoope, Virginia. Most notably, everyone who had asked about Elliot had seemed genuinely friendly.

“You okay?” Elliot’s voice interrupted my not-so-pleasant thoughts.

“What? Yeah, of course.” I felt my neck heating a little. “Just preoccupied.”

“We don’t have to go to your apartment,” he said softly. “I just?—”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll need to grab some groceries, but I think we’d probably need to do that anyway,” I cut him off. “I think I’m just…” I shrugged. “Off.”

I heard the bag rustle as he presumably fished out more curds. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice even softer.

“It’s not your fault, El,” I told him, trying to make my voice convincing. “I haven’t really gotten enough sleep or enough food, and that means I’m just kind of being a bitch.”

He snorted softly. “Whose fault is that?” he asked, and although there was a thread of teasing, I could tell there was also guilt.

“Well, you didn’t set the cabin in Aniwa on fire, so not yours.”

“Just a fire?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Murder-suicide, actually,” I answered. “With the killer probably also being the one who set the fire.”

“Ugh.”

“Pretty much.”

We were silent the last few minutes before I pulled into my parking lot, and then I limped my way around the car to take the Culver’s bag, then help Elliot out. He hesitated, looking up at me, his good hand gripping my forearm. “Seth?—”

I brushed a stray bit of white hair out of his face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

I pulled him towards me, pressing a kiss to his forehead, my hand resting on the back of his neck. “Not on my watch,” I whispered into his slightly-too-warm skin. I needed to get some Tylenol into him.

His grip tightened on my arm. “I’m sorry I was stupid,” he said, and his voice was thick.

“We all make mistakes,” I replied, trying to be diplomatic.

“I’d honestly feel better if you yelled at me,” he told me. “Val did.”

I held him a few more moments, his head bowed against my shoulder, my cheek against his hair. “I lack the creativity to add anything to whatever he had to say,” I told Elliot, trying to make my tone light. I was pretty sure that whatever Hart had said, it was both completely accurate and far more effective at producing shame than anything I would ever be able to come up with.

Elliot chuckled softly. “You’re probably right,” he said, his voice low and a little sad. “You’re too nice to say half the shit he said.”

That made me laugh. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere cozy with some Tylenol.”