Page 71 of Things Left Unsaid

“He’s g-gone,” she sobs, her whole body heaving in her misery.

I close my eyes, her grief triggering tears when I stopped crying years ago. I hold her tighter, wishing that hugging her this hard could keep her together, could stop her from falling apart.

Ever since I’ve known her, she’s been fragile. First her dad’s heart attack, then her mom drowning…

One of the reasons I’ve always made sure that I was here on Fridays, even during university, wasn’t only for my brothers—but for her. It’s also why I attended a diabetes management class in Saskatoon, so I could understand the ins and outs of what she deals with on the regular.

A part of me has always expected to hear that she tried to kill herself by just not keeping a check on her blood sugar.

The thought has me holding onto her harder because I don’t know if this one small girl can withstand another loss.

“H-He’s gone,” she repeats, but this time, it’s a wail. Her fists clutch at my jacket, clinging and tearing, yanking on it as if she’s fighting Death himself.

I hold her as the storm ravages her. What else can I do?

I can’t bring Walker back.

Can’t do anything at all, aside from be here.

I rub my cheek against the crown of her head, but her face tilts, and our eyes lock as her mouth seeks mine.

For a moment, I don’t know what the hell is happening. One second, she was wailing, and the next, she’s kissing me.

I attempt to dislodge her from my embrace, but her arms curve around my shoulders. “Please, Colton. Please. Hold me. Kiss me.”

“No, Susanne. No!” I bark when her arms cling to me and won’t let go.

The second ‘no’ has her jolting. Mouth round, she covers it with trembling fingers, then she gasps. “But I love you. Don’t you love me too?”

“Not like that,” I appease, but there’s no letting her down gently.

One second, she’s standing there, gaping at me in horror, and the next she’s running off, along the corridor toward the side entrance at the office.

I make to go after her, wanting to ease her mortification, but then I falter.

Rubbing my temple, I retreat a step.

It hurts, though.

She’s going to need me to get through Walker’s?—

“Fuck. Why did she have to do that?”

I’m twenty-two, for Christ’s sake. She’s still a girl. Only sixteen.

I take another step, but guilt laces that movement too.

I’m almost relieved when Callan shrieks, “Colllllllt, I did it!”

Twisting on my heel, I find Loki staring at me.

I know it’s transference but I swear he looks like he disapproves.

I tweak his ear before running my knuckles down his muzzle. “Shekissedme, Loki.”

His head jostles as he steps away from me, settling deeper in his stall.

I swear to Christ that’s the only time he’s ever done that.

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