Page 115 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus wasn’t going to take it at first. It didn’t slip him by that Mercer knew he didn’t have it. It was either still in the hands of a waitress or in a landfill.

He snatched it out of Mercer’s grip.

Even when Mercer was gone, he couldn’t relax. He knew Mercer wasn’t going to let this go. He knew something was up with Marcus.

Marcus would do all he damn could to make sure Mercer never found out about what happened in that cabin.

“Oh my god!”

Patrice practically flew through the door and onto Marcus. Marcus let out a grunt as he was forced back onto the hospital bed, the locked wheels skidding across the linoleum tiles a few inches.

Patrice pulled back. “Sorry! I was just so fucking worried about you and when they said you were all the way here I lost my mind?—”

Marcus gave a shaky smile. “Hey, I’m okay now.”

Patrice grinned and hugged Marcus tightly. But after a long moment of Patrice almost choking him to death, his friend pulled back. A frown that didn’t suit Patrice’s features darkened his bright mood.

“You’re not okay, though, are you?”

Marcus didn’t know what to say. The truth? No. It wouldn’t be good enough. He needed an excuse. A promise that things would get better. That he would get better so he wouldn’t bring Patrice’s life down along with his.

He put on the fakest smile he’d ever wore, faker than the one he mustered at his mother’s funeral.

It made him feel like shit. He felt even worse when it was directed at Patrice.

Patrice didn’t return it. Why would he? He knew immediately Marcus was lying to him. It was a fucking insult and Marcus wished he could take it back if he could. The regret wasn’t enough to make him want to tell Patrice anything though. His lips were sealed even if Patrice is the one person in the world he could trust.

Patrice’s frown deepened. He pulled completely away, his warmth dissipating, leaving Marcus feeling colder than before.

Cautiously, Patrice sat on the bed beside him. The silence should have been comforting as they’d sat in silence many times over the years. This time it was heavy and filled with trauma that neither of them could convey.

Marcus only had to guess a little what it felt like to be on the other side of someone you cared about being hurt. He’d imagined what might happen to his sister if he hadn’t traded places with her—the thoughts of Michael briefly coming to the forefront.

And he didn’t have to pretend to know what it felt like to know that your loved one had been hurt. Marcus’s mother mightnot have survived and Marcus might still be alive, but that didn’t meant Patrice wasn’t going through it too.

Marcus hadn’t known what to do after his mother’s death. He hadn’t known what he could do to help his sister or to help himself. He imagined Patrice was going through the same thing.

What can I do? Will I make it worse? Will he hate me?

Those thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth. Marcus’s own thoughts were filled with guilt, deceit, but also conviction.

What does he know? Will he pry? How much do I have to distance myself?

Patrice lifted his hand. He seemed like he was going to place his hand on Marcus’s arm, but he changed his mind. He lowered his hand awkwardly to the space between them on the bed.

“When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here,” he said. There was desperation in his voice. Marcus felt it in the pit of his stomach. It made his throat tight and itchy.

He coughed. “Thanks—uh—how’s it been?”

He winced at how stupid that sounded. How’s it been? Was he going to act like nothing happened? Were they really going to go back to how it used to be like nothing had changed? News flash, it fucking had. Marcus might not be totally fucked up about it (though by how much he missed Roman he definitely was) but Patrice was definitely going through something.

Patrice gave Marcus a strange look as expected, but he took it in stride. Perhaps there could be a resemblance of normality in a few weeks. Maybe.

“I’ve been removed from the case. The FBI has taken full jurisdiction.”

Marcus tried to find some sort of surprise, but he didn’t. The FBI would be all over this given the fact that it was connected to a larger picture. Marcus didn’t even know how big it went as it seemed the son of Dante Cortez was branching off onto his own.

“Chief has given you a month vacation. Nonnegotiable.”

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