Murder

by Ella James

  Cleo wakes up Kellan, and he gives Bear and me a sleepy smile. I can’t help noticing his arm’s around Cleo’s shoulders. Looking at the two of them, at Kellan and how good he looks, you’d never guess, but since I know, I think I notice all the small things. God, it must be so scary for Cleo. And Kellan, obviously. I say a prayer that his cancer stays away forever, and they have a long, wonderful life.

  Then we’re closing the door behind them. Barrett kisses me. He rocks his boner up against me, driving me gently against the wall. We hump there before winding up on the floor, having frantic sex.

  “I’m half drunk,” he says as we lie there, satiated, afterward. His husky words are filled with comical wonder, like he doesn’t quite know how it happened.

  I laugh and kiss his scratchy cheek. “I am, too. Stay with me,” I murmur. “Don’t go next door.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  He gets to his feet, and I look up at him.

  “You’re mine.” I giggle.

  He scoops me up, trying to hold me carefully against his chest without throwing me over his shoulder or carrying me lamb style. I can tell by the way he moves that he’s trying to be careful with me, but he is drunk.

  I giggle some more. His steps are slightly unsteady.

  “My mule,” I cackle.

  My mind whirls. Isn’t that what Elvie used to say? If I got ugly, he’d send me away on a mule?

  “You’re my mule,” I whisper again. Goodness fills me, soft and warm and right as rain.

  EIGHT

  BARRETT

  “Barrett?”

  The clear, sharp voice is out of place. It doesn’t go with what I’m seeing: Gwen’s small body, crumpled, her hair spread around her head, her blood leaking on the roadside. I hear my name a few more times, but it’s just background noise. I’m consumed with what is wrong with Gwen. I’ve got this feeling I should know, but my brain’s sluggish. I don’t understand. How did she get here? Her face is white and slack. Her lips are stained with dark liquid that drips out of the corner of her mouth and down her throat, into the snow.

  I drop down beside her, but my knees sink into the warm puddle of blood, and I have to turn away. My stomach lurches. I cup my hand over my mouth. After a second struggling to shut my stomach down, I remind myself that I’m an Operator—and this is Gwen; I love her! Then I put my hands under her hips and shoulders and lift her.

  As I pull her onto my lap, warmth spills over my lap. My throat constricts.

  “Oh God…” My hands loosen their grip on her. I almost drop her; then I hold her to my chest and sob.

  “Gwen…oh God… Oh God, oh please…”

  “Barrett—I’m okay.” The voice is distant: background noise.

  Our bodies shake together. “Oh my God…Breck. Gwen…”

  “Bear… Baby. It’s me—it’s Gwenna. Open your eyes, baby… Look at me.”

  I’m looking up at Gwen. Relief transforms her features as she clasps my cheeks and pulls my face toward her.

  I wrap my arms around her.

  “Bear…that’s right.” I feel her hand stroke my cheek, feel her rocking me. I blink around. The lights…

  “That’s right.” Her voice is a thick whisper. “You see the lights?”

  I hear her, see them, but…the snow. I smell the salt and I can feel the blood and Ly and Mom and Breck…all dead. I feel myself shaking, am aware some distant somewhere that Gwen’s arms are around me. I’m shaking…and trying not lose it.

  “It’s okay....”

  I blink and realize I’m lying in Gwen’s lap with my arms around myself. One hand is clutching my face. Shaking…

  I try to think of something I can tell her, but my mind feels stuck. Oh, fuck. Freaking out like this…

  I told myself I wouldn’t—

  I frown up at her. She looks…fine.

  A shiver moves through my shoulders. Her face blurs, so I can’t tell if she is…

  “Gwen?”

  Her eyes are gentle. “Barrett?” Her arms pull me closer. I close my eyes and grit my teeth and try to breathe. It’s all still there—the things that blow me open…and the blood…and…

  “Come here… Let’s lay down.” She does, and I half fall on her.

  I wince, trying to shift back on my arms so I’m not lying right on her.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, holding me against her.

  I can’t stop the flow of tears. Can’t forget what I saw. I can see the blood on her mouth. I cut my eyes so I can see her face—she’s lying on the pillow—searching for the damage that I fear will be there...

  I find her brows are drawn together. Her hand cups my cheek as she searches my face.

  “Hang on a minute, baby…” Gwenna sits up. I shift onto my side, feeling unsteady and weird. She’s gone for a moment, and then she’s moving in my field of vision with a big blanket. She spreads it over me. It’s oddly heavy

  “That’s my weighted blanket.” I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she pulls it up to my mid-back. My eyelids seem to grow heavy with it. Gwenna doesn’t seem real.

  “Okay, now…” She does her best to wrap her hands under my arms and tug me up against her, guiding my head to her soft belly. I can feel her body curl around mine. “Feel that blanket? It’s keeping you here…with me. You’re okay here. Nothing is the matter in this time and place, okay?” She holds me tightly as her whispered words flow through me. Things feel like they’re swirling around me.

  I smell the blood. Regret and horror swell like balloons in my chest, until I can barely breathe enough to whisper, “I’m sorry.” I feel my body tremble, and I feel so fucking bad to burden her like this. I shut my eyes. “I love you.”

  My stomach plummets as my raspy words make their way to my brain.

  I’m off the bed so fast, the room careens; into the bathroom where I lean against the wall and brace my hands on my knees.

  Fuck!

  My mind is racing, even as my throat feels like it’s closing up. I think of crawling out the bathroom window.

  Get a fucking grip. I stand up straighter, scrub the heels of my palms over my eyes. Even as I stop my leaking eyes and regulate my breathing, something hard and cold encases my chest.

  It’s not going to work; it’s never going to work. I can’t keep it together…

  I hear Gwenna come into the room. Can see the shape of her, but I can’t look at her. My eyes shut of their own accord, but I force them back open. Force them to meet her wide, brown ones.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I make myself take in the look on her face: kind. I grit my jaw so hard it sends a bolt of pain up my temple.

  “Barrett…” Her voice is so soft, I can hardly hear it…but I see her mouth move. I feel her step closer to me.

  “I’m wrong for you,” I manage. My voice sounds raspy; weak.

  I watch her eyes absorb the words: the way their dark pools seem to deepen.

  “Bear…” She steps so close our bodies touch and runs her fingers up my cheek. She strokes my temple. Her eyes flare, demanding things before she even says, “You love me. You said so. And you know what? I love you too.” Her fingers curl against my cheek. Her eyes flash. “I love you too.” Her voice cracks. “It’s scary to say, even though you just said it. Barrett…” She wraps an arm around me, pressing her softness against me, looking up into my face as she speaks softly. “I think I knew I loved you when I brought the wine over that night. I felt scared and kind of…helpless. Like what I was doing was out of control and maybe stupid. And I couldn’t stop.” Her voice goes raspy. “You know why?” She blinks.

  I shake my head.

  “Because I love you. I love everything about you.” Her hands grasp my wrists. “I like your arms and legs…your hands.” She brings one up to her face, turning my hand so her lips can brush over my palm. “There’s this callous right here—” Her mouth tickles the spot between my left hand thumb and forefinger that used to mark me as an Operator. “I like it,” she
murmurs, her eyes burning mine. “I like your long fingers. I even like your little fingernails.” She smiles gently, and squeezes all the fingers with her own.

  “You know what I like the most, though?” She sounds breathless.

  I swallow.

  “The thing you know best, you can’t do it anymore, Barrett. You lost your vision in one eye, you lost basically a life, and what are you doing? Taking time for some random girl next door. Teaching her hand-to-hand. Making her care about you.” She shakes her head as sorrow fills her eyes. “You keep running from me… I knew you were getting up at night.” Her lips press into a thin line as she shakes her head again. “Don’t you think I care?”

  “You don’t know me.” The words are hoarse. My jaw aches, referring pain up to my ear. She doesn’t know me. If she did, she’d never love me. She wouldn’t be able to, and in my honest moments, I can see this with terrible clarity.

  I feel a clawing sensation deep inside my chest.

  “I don’t know you well enough to take care of you?” Her eyes glimmer. She frowns, and I watch her throat move as she swallows. “Barrett—this is when we met. This is how things are right now. I love you because…I do. I want to be here with you. What bothers you about all that?”

  I look down at my feet as my eyes throb with building pressure.

  “Talk to me, baby.” Her voice is so soft; it makes my chest feel like it’s ripping open.

  I look up at her, even open my mouth, but all I see is warm love in her eyes and I just…can’t. I shudder. Gwenna holds me to her, and it’s horrible. It’s wonderful. I want it so much. More than the sum of all the good parts of me.

  “All I want is to make you feel better,” she says in her sweet, soft voice, “but I feel like I can’t get to you, if that makes any sense.”

  I inhale deeply and let the words inside my head croak out. “I don’t see why you want to.”

  The world is still while she looks into my eyes, seeing through my soul. “Bear, because you’re mine. I feel it. You are mine to hold and take care of and check on…and fuck. I want to hold your hand. I want to know about you. Why? Who cares why? I’m not asking. I don’t have an answer, either. Who does? Why’d you say you love me?” Her throat moves as she swallows; her eyes twinkle as she hoarsely asks me, “Did you mean it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why do you love me, Barrett? Is it the color of my hair? The baked goods?”

  I lick my lips. “I like your smile,” I rasp.

  Her face slackens, and I can feel her gaze grow a little more serious under the weight of what I think must be self-consciousness. I run my fingers over her jaw.

  “I think it’s sexy… You.” How do I convey to her that there is only one Gwen, only one sweet, kind, sexy, crooked smile. “Your eyes,” I manage. My throat feels full, but she looks somber, so I push past it and give her some of me, whatever I can muster. “Your eyes make me feel…better. About life. The way you look in leggings.” I stroke her ass. “So fucking hot. The lights on the ceiling.” I kiss her temple. “You’re good, Gwen. You’re so good, I can’t help but love you even though I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Trust me, baby…” She trails her lips over my cheekbone. “You’re good, too.”

  Her breath is warm and sweet. I shut my eyes. “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m going to keep saying it,” she warns me in a murmur.

  A strange panic burbles in me. I look at her and I feel my heartbeat in my shoulders and my throat. “I gave pain, and I deserve it. That’s the way it works. There’s nothing good about me.”

  If she’s going to be with me, she should be warned.

  The ache—in my head, my jaw, my chest—fuzzes into numbness as I try to breathe. She melds her soft body around mine.

  My hands, on her shoulders, shake. The two of us are locked together, her tethered to me and it’s so wrong. So wrong.

  “You seem like a dream…to me.” The words swim in my head; unsteady words. “Rewrite the story…” I clear my throat so my voice isn’t as cracked and get the nerve to look down at her. “You said I have to rewrite what happens… But I can’t. Because I don’t deserve it.”

  GWENNA

  “Does Kellan think that?”

  He frowns.

  “Does he agree with what you said? That you deserve pain?”

  He shakes his head, looking troubled. “I don’t—”

  “You are in pain.” I stroke his wrists; I look into his desperate eyes. “You’re here, you’ve been back for a while, but you’re still hurt. I know.” He looks down as his face hardens. I can feel his body still: embarrassment or shame. I stroke his strong arm. “You’re doing the best you can, baby, trying to hold yourself together… I know. And you’ve done really well. You’re so strong. But you know what? I think you can’t trust yourself on some things. Not right now. A part of you—” I swallow. His eyes flick to mine; our gazes hold and it feels tender, then bright like the sun, almost painful. I push forward in a breathless whisper.

  “I think you want to hurt yourself. You don’t know what to do; you can’t see your way out. And you can’t trust yourself right now to know what you deserve. Kellan loves you.” I swallow, clearing my throat. “I love you. Cleo loves you, too. So I think you have to at least take into consideration what we think.” I take his hands in mine and squeeze. “We don’t think you should be hurt, or that you deserve to be in pain. We want you to feel better. I just want you to feel good.”

  I hold him to me. His body is shaking. I can feel his pain seep into my own bones.

  “Whatever happened over there?” I lean away so I can look into his tortured eyes. “That is in the past. That Barrett? He’s gone. Maybe you can think of him as dead. He’s gone, just like Breck. You can’t reach him anymore, because he’s gone. Maybe things were so bad, you wanted the pain. To have control over yourself or…I don’t know. But you can be a different person now, I swear, I know you can. Not can—are. You’re here now. You won’t go back there. You couldn’t if you wanted to. So I think maybe you should let that person go. Because he is gone.

  “You’re not a sniper anymore…” I wrap both arms around his back, and Barrett leans against me, quiet and still. “You’re not a killer, Bear. You’re my neighbor… You live in the woods. With bears, and a weird girl who makes cakes with beer. You still look like the other Barrett… You have scars of his. But you— I know this Barrett. You’re sweet and brave and strong.” I stroke his soft hair. “What was left from all that stuff, what you came back with—the day you met up with Kellan and Cleo and they drove you to rehab your arm—that guy: the one who moved here and saw me at the meeting… You are him. And he does not deserve to hurt.”

  I take his face in my hands; he lifts his head off my shoulder and I stare deep into his eyes.

  “If it doesn’t ring true to you, you have to believe me. Because in this way, I can see more clearly what’s right… your brother can… Cleo can… You are someone new now. The other Barrett, that one…” I shake my head, struggling for words. “Maybe you feel so bad because you’re holding onto someone who is gone. And maybe you should mourn him. He isn’t coming back. And who you were before then?” My voice cracks. “I have one of those too. This ghost version. She isn’t coming back either. You know what I mean?”

  His wet eyes blink at mine. His sweet, still face… I cup his jaw, stroking gently over his soft skin.

  “That Bear is gone. And you can miss him. Miss him. I miss the old Gwen. She was different, but you might have liked her.”

  Tears slide down his cheeks.

  “The Barrett who enlisted? Dead. The Barrett who was over there? He’s gone, too. He probably died with Breck.”

  His features tighten. He pulls me close and buries his face in my shoulder.

  “I wish he had,” he chokes.

  “I know.” I hug him tightly, wrap my hand around the back of his head. “I know. Now you’re someone else, and even though they feel so strong, all
that, your memories—are only memories now. We can’t reach back in time, you know? So you have to think of yourself as someone new now. You’re what’s left. And all the misery? That stuff belongs with the dead.”

  “You can’t see it?”

  “See what?”

  He shoulders shiver. “I feel…like everyone can see it,” he says in a broken voice.

  “What can we see?”

  “I’m not just a guy.”

  “You are.” I stroke his strong back. “You’re my guy next door.” His eyes flicker to mine. They’re dark. “Let me ask you this, Barrett: Have you killed anybody here?”

  His face pales. I feel bad about asking such a harsh question, but I press on. “Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Have you lost any friends in that house next door? In real time?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Heard a bomb?”

  He shakes his head again.

  “Have you been wounded there?” I smirk slightly, remembering our meeting. “In a serious way?”

  He shakes his head.

  “You’re not going to see another IED, Barrett. One time when you were dreaming, you were talking about a tourniquet. You don’t have one of those here. You don’t need one here. The Barrett who needed one is gone. You have to leave him there. I think you did already. Maybe part of you feels like you have to get him back. To sort through all that and atone…” I gnaw my lip, shaking my head. “I don’t know what’s in your mind, but I know you can’t. The only thing you have is from this point forward, and from here on out, you are not an Operator. You’re just my neighbor. Someone I love. You can’t be anybody else, unless you want to. Choose to. And that person would be new, too.”

  I stroke the back of his head. “You—the one here now—are who I want. And I love you, Barrett. I want you to be fed well and feel good. You are beautiful to me…and valuable. I want to keep you.”

  He holds me tightly. “I love you…Gwen. I don’t know how to…not be scared.”