I’d thrownup everything I’d eaten in the last forty-eight—or more—hours and was essentially comatose on the bathroom floor. Sassafras was sitting across from me, her yellow eyes fixed on my tear-streaked face.
I just kept staring at the last text messages I’d sent him, wondering if he’d seen any of them. Wondering if he’d lost control of the car, if it had caught fire first, or what hadhappened. If I’d gone with him, would he still be alive? If I hadn’t asked him to feed the goats, he’d almost certainly still be alive.
And then I wouldn’t have to go back to an empty house?—
And tell Hart.
Fuck.
I had to tell Hart.
I sent him a text.I need you to call me ASAP.
About forty-five minutes later, my phone buzzed.
I answered it, and then couldn’t say a word, because every time I tried, another sob choked off my throat.
“Mays—what the fuck—Seth.Seth!”
“I—” But I couldn’t.
“Are you okay?”
“N-no.”
“Is… Is Elliot okay?”
I couldn’t even manage anothat time.
“Fuck.No. Not accepting that. No fucking way.” Even Hart’s voice broke.
I couldn’t say anything back.
“Just… Did youseehim?” I didn’t want to know what it cost him to ask that question. It cost me a lot to hear it.
“N-no.”
“Then we’re not accepting it. Not yet.” It was insane. Delusional. He was in denial. But,God, did I want him to have good reason to say it.
“B-but?—”
“No.Fuck, no. Where the fuck are you? I’m coming out.”
I draggedmyself out of the bathroom when someone started pounding on the hotel room door.
“Dammit, Mays,” came Hart’s muffled voice. “Let me the fuck in.”
Somehow, I managed to pull myself to my feet, then open the door, although it caught on the chain, and I said several very Hart-worthy things before I managed to get it off and get the door open.
I stared at him, taking in the fact that this was probably the most unkempt I’d ever seen him in my life, and we’d worked crime scenes together at every conceivable hour of the night and morning. His eyes looked bloodshot, color high in his cheeks, his shirt and grey slacks rumpled, strands of hair coming loose from his long white braid.
“You look about as shit as I feel,” he said, his voice rough.
I swallowed, but I couldn’t make myself form any actual words. So I just stepped out of the way and let him come in.
“Mrow!”
“Jesus fuck!” Hart stopped, staring down at Sassafras, who was looking up at him. “When the fuck did you get a cat?”
