Page 118 of Intrepid

Without a word, he descended the stairs toward me and, once in arm’s reach, yanked me into his body.

“I was … so scared. You were going … to die.” The shivers wracked me as I stood with my arms wrapped tight around his waist. “I’ve never … been that scared in my whole life, Ty.” The relief of his embrace incited more tears, and I buried my face in his T-shirt to keep them from falling.

He cradled my face, lifting my gaze to his. “I’m proud of you. Even if that was the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever done. I could’ve lost you tonight. Christ, you almost slipped up there.” His lips pressed to my forehead, his harsh breaths scattering over my hairline.

“I’m sure … I must’ve looked like an ass in my robe.”

Ty chuckled, holding me tighter. “It’s a visual I’ll certainly never forget.”

A burst of laughter flew from my chest, but withered with the panic still gripping my lungs. “My father, he—”

“I saw.”

I’d suspected it was Dax who’d called him, though I didn’t know for sure. Perhaps someone else. Someone more frightening than Dax and Tesarik combined. Whoever it was, whatever they’d said had given my father the impression that death was a better option, because no way Karl Kutscher would’ve been so quick to take his own life in vain, unless the alternative meant something far worse.

Ty stepped back and clutched his arm again, drawing my eyes to the splotch of blood there.

“Oh! You need to have that looked at!”

“I’m all right. Just a scratch.” He smiled and winced, his jaw tight with the pain I imagined had struck him.

The distant sound of sirens sent a wave of urgency beating through my body, and I wiped the tears shielding me from his face. “You have to go.”

Lowering his gaze from mine, he nodded, and I caught the upturn of his brow.

Sniffing, I stared down at my fidgeting hands, already braced for the answer to my next words. “I could … come with you.”

“You have school. Jo. Your whole life, Sera. You can’t just walk away from that.”

“And you can?”

His brows pinched together as he shook his head. “I hear voices. I see things that aren’t there. My head isn’t right, but I wish it was. For you.”

The sirens grew louder, more distinct. Multiple sirens that may have already arrived at the construction site. The last bit of sand slipping through the hourglass. My time with him had come to an end, yet I felt like I had so many things left to say. “You need to go.”

Tears welled again, only that time, I didn’t hide them. I couldn’t.

He lurched forward and cupped my face, thumbing the moisture on my cheek. “No regrets, Sera.” Fingers curled around my nape, he pulled me close, and the kiss to my lips felt like an apology, a tattoo of broken promises I’d wear every day after.

Eyes shuttered, I focused on the taste of him, that warm cinnamon flavor and the softness of his lips, until his hand released me, the coldness settling in where he once stood.

And the fissuring pain in my chest was the first crack of my heart, warning it was about to break.

“No regrets.”

The words hurt, physically ached, as they slipped out, like spitting ground glass and suffering the painful cuts in my mouth. Spinning around, I opened my eyes to find he wasn’t there, and I peered over the crumbing staircase spiraling twenty stories into the dark depths below me.

“Wait!” I shouted down to him, and the chasing silence marked the somber echo of the void he left behind. “Wait!”

38

Sera

One month later …

The worst thing about insomnia wasn’t the exhaustion, or headaches, the irritation, or the lack of concentration. I could’ve at least faced those symptoms.

The worst part was the loneliness.