“You.” He spits twice.
“Do you need a tissue, hon?” Marie asks, still with her hands in the air.
“I need him to be gone,” Chris says through a tense jaw. “This is his fault. He showed up in town and took everything from me.”
“Is that what you and Joel Hostetler tell each other in your incel support group?” I move forward now, not caring. I’m ready to die. It’s either here or with the Macks. Either way, I won’t let anyone hurt the Marshalls. “You can’t face the truth, and you’re making all of us listen to you blather on about your supposed woes, when they’re all self-inflicted.”
“And what is the truth, dickhead?”
I smirk. Is that really his best insult? Beside me, Laura must hear the sirens, too, because she takes a step back behind me. Good.
I advance toward Chris, stalking him like a gator stalks a poor, unsuspecting cat who’s wandered too close to the edge of the swamp. “The truth is that you aren’t good enough for her. You never will be. And maybe I’m not, either. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not. But despite all the shit I’ve gone through, I’m willing to try to be who she needs. You are an obsessive, creepy little shit. And maybe I am, too. But I’m an obsessive, creepy little shit who is willing to change. Who will go the extra mile because Laura is worth it. She’s worth me being a better version of myself.”
Chris’s eyes flare wide a second before the gun fires, the sound an explosion in the tight hallway. I whirl to protect Laura, the scissors flying from my hand in an arc that I hope is in his general direction. There’s a deep, stabbing burn in my shoulder, and my arm below it goes bitterly numb. Marie screams something feral and unintelligible as my makeshift weapon clatters uselessly on the hallway carpet, two feet from Chris, who’s now holding the gun in one limp hand, like he’s shocked it actually went off.
“No!” Laura cries, reaching for me, but I can’t get to her. My vision goes hazy as the burn in my shoulder intensifies.
That little fucker shot me. I try to get up from the ground because I want nothing more than to punch him, but my legs aren’t listening to my brain.
Marie and Dr. Sieber jump on Chris’s back in a synchronized motion that makes me wonder if they practice krav maga during their lunch breaks. Sideburns Squirrel goes down with a howl of rage, but somehow he and I are on the same level. I stare across the utilitarian gray carpet toward him, wishing I could fire lasers from my eyeballs.
There’s an aching pressure on my shoulder, and Laura’s scent overwhelms me. “No, no, Jesse, no.” She’s sobbing. I try to reach toward her, but I can’t move my arm. Why can’t I move it?
A black cloud encroaches on the edges of my vision, so I use whatever time I have to drink in the sight of Laura’s face. If I can die like this, it’s worth it.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Don’t say that,” she says, tears falling from her eyes onto my cheeks. “You only say that because you think you’re going to die.”
Somewhere in the distance, I hear what sounds like Frank the Security Guard’s voice, authoritative and announcing the police’s arrival. Frank. He does surprise me.
But I don’t want Frank to be the last thing I see. Laura Marshall really is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Dragon-scale green eyes, those clouds of brown hair cascading around her perfect face. I raise the hand that isn’t numb and brush a curl, wet with her tears, away from her cheek. Her hair is so silky. I’m ready to die like this, her surrounding me.
“I love you,” I say again. Then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Laura
“Where the fuck were you?”I hit Rory hard in the deltoid, and he wrinkles his nose in consternation. We stand outside the heavy glass doors leading into the operating room, where my mom and Dr. Sieber had rushed Jesse on a gurney only moments before.
“We were a little busy,” Rory replies, sighing. “We were arresting the entire Mack family before they stormed in and caused even more problems. It’s a good thing Frank had the foresight to lock down the hospital when he did. That man deserves a medal.”
It isn’t enough. They weren’t fast enough. I shift from foot to foot, my gaze fixed on the opaque windows leading to the operating suite.
“If it makes you feel better, you can join the Rory Anti-Fan Group that Bobby started.”
“He didn’t really do that. He just said it to make you mad.” I lift my thumb to my mouth and chew on the nail. I haven’t chewed my nails in years, but I can’t think of anything else toquiet the humming anxiety inside me. “I can’t believe Chris did all this.”
“He’s probably going to try for some sort of insanity plea.” Cracking his neck, Rory groans. “I think Travis Mack sprained my wrist. Seriously, those three were like characters ordered from a goon squad catalog.”
Somehow this information filters through the anxious haze in my brain. “So they’re arrested? Is Jesse free?”
“I mean, it would have been better if one of them had shot him,” Rory says, oblivious to my rising wrath. “They’d have more jail time. But crossing state lines, intent to murder, possession of more firearms than anyone can claim for deer hunting…Especially this time of year.”
“I don’t see how this is relevant.”
Rory shrugs. “Might not be, but whatever we can do to put them all behind bars. We’re searching their hotel room now. If we find anything to connect them to the fire at the cabin, then we also have them on arson.”