Page 53 of Fluffed and Folded

He laughed.

She poked him. “I’m serious. You made me all gooey inside.”

“Are we certain that wasn’t your stitches coming undone?” he asked, which made her bend over and clutch her stomach, because laughing hard still hurt, drat him. He rested his hand comfortingly on her back, and she understood it was a sign of his concern, that little touch. Maybe he was only half joking with his question.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. With more effort than she wanted it to take, she sat up and regarded him as he stared down at her with worried eyes.

“Are you, though, really?” he asked. His finger swiped gently on her cheek.

“Um,” she said, and that was it. Before Ham, she’d been a typical teenager, she’d flirted and had a few boyfriends. But now anything she ever knew about men seemed to have evaporated, along with all her confidence and spark. Instead her mind was a big blank and “UM” was the least-stupid thing it would provide her.Thanks, brain. I’m glad I eat well and work out, so you could repay me like this, when I need you.Why, for instance, could she instantly recall all the words to theSimpsonsthemesong, but couldn’t think of a coherent reply to this man she desperately wanted to impress with her interesting wit and personality? Not that she had much chance of that, after she tumored all over him, then cried, then admitted she had no friends or outside interests. Seriously, at what point did she begin to question him for continuing to hang around with a loser like her? Was he really that nice? What could he possibly see in her?

“I like you, Darby,” he said, as if in answer to her unasked question. Unless, oh no, did she ask it out loud? She didn’t think so, especially when he continued. “You’re good people.”

She certainly wasn’t bad people, of that much she was certain. Her life might be small right now, but she tried to always do her best, tried to be kind to the few people she encountered. Mostly, that meant the hooligans who lived in her apartments, people like Mack, Anthony, Dex, and Asher…

Darby stared into space, as images flooded her vision. Asher, a man, blood, so much blood…

“Darby, hey, are you okay?” Eli cupped his palm around her cheek, drawing her back to the present.

She licked her lips, and his eyes tracked the movement, with something that maybe looked a lot like hunger? She had no time to dwell on that now, because, “I think I know what happened with Asher.”

CHAPTER 29

“Okay, walk me through it.”

Eli stood off to the side, shifting from foot to foot, vaguely annoyed. They had tried to Facetime Tristan, but he wanted Darby in person, to see what memories it might trigger. Eli didn’t like that.Won’t she be in danger?he’d asked. Tristan’s disdain for that question had been palpable, and Eli was annoyed with the man, for the first time in his life. It was all well and good that he was intimidating and had big muscles, but this wasDarbythey were talking about. She was soft and vulnerable and…

“He was stabbed, a whole bunch, right there,” she said now, pointing toward the bed, from her vantage point in the closet.

Tristan stood beside her, trying to see things from her angle to see what she saw. “You don’t know who the man was?”

“No,” Darby said, giving her head a hard shake. “Never saw him before, definitely not one of the tenants.”

“Would you recognize him, if you saw him?” Tristan asked.

“Er,” she hemmed, sounding uncertain. “I have no idea. My brain isn’t exactly reliable right now.” Despite her statement, she sounded relieved. Eli hadn’t believed, not for one second, that Darby was guilty of killing Asher. Darby must have harboreddoubts, however. He couldn’t imagine how hard it had been on her, to learn there were large swaths of her life she couldn’t remember. And yet she’d held up so admirably, was so brave and sweet and vulnerable and… He cut off that line of thought with a shake of his head.Not his.That was the most important thing. Darby needed a friend right now, that was all. Anything else would be taking advantage. He had sworn to her that he wouldn’t hit on her and had almost broken that promise and kissed her, when they were on his uncle’s swing. With some distance, he had himself back under control. It also helped that she was describing the murder she’d witnessed. Color him crazy, but attraction sort of went out the window, when a woman began talking about blood and puncture wounds.

“But why was she here in the first place?” Eli interjected.

“For the same reason she broke into your place,” Tristan said.

Was Eli jealous that Darby also broke into Asher’s apartment? No, because only a crazy person would be jealous over something so odd. He was certainly not possessive of Darby’s former psychosis. Was he? Maybe a little.I am getting a good glimpse at all the worst parts of me.In some selfish way, he wanted to believe Darby had sought him out because they had some sort of connection, or because she liked him. Apparently she had wandered wherever was convenient, and his apartment had merely been one of her stops. Had she broken in on Mack, Dex, and Anthony, too? Surely one of them would have said something, if so. Asher hadn’t, however, and why not? Why would he have kept that secret?

Now, at last, he was beginning to think like Tristan, and he also saw why Tristan wanted to have this conversation in person: because there was more to it.

“Asher never did anything for anyone, unless it benefited himself,” he said out loud. Tristan gave him a look like,Duh,thanks for finally catching up,but Darby startled and stared at him.

“You’re right,” she croaked. “So what did he get from me?” Unconsciously, or maybe not, her fingers migrated to her lips and pressed. Tristan studied her with a detached air.

“Did he assault you?” he asked.

Darby startled again, and this time Eli did, too. He gave a menacing glare toward the bed, which was ineffectual. All traces of Asher were gone, replaced by Tristan’s pristine white bedspread, with hospital corners and one pillow, in the exact center of the bed. If a cross hung on the wall, it would resemble a monk’s room, but instead Josie had hung up artwork from her kids, a series of gnomes in varying colors. And somehow the contrast worked.

“I don’t know,” Darby breathed. Eli couldn’t resist the urge to move closer and lay a reassuring hand on her back, and why shouldn’t he? They were friends. Friends could touch. Friends could resist the urge to sniff her hair when she leaned into that touch, almost desperate for comfort and reassurance.

“Try to think past the fear,” Eli urged, his hand rubbing the little circular path on her spine that seemed to soothe her. “When you allow the fear to surface, it takes over and pauses the rational part of your brain. Tristan and I are here, you are safe. It’s okay to remember, nothing bad will happen to you. You did nothing wrong. You are okay, everything is okay.”

Darby took a deep breath and pushed back at the fear. Eli was right, whenever she let it take over, it shoved away all the thinking parts of her brain, like closing a heavy iron door on her thoughts and memories. She purposely backed away from them, because she was afraid. But she didn’t have to be afraid. Now that she was positive she had nothing to do with Asher’s death, anything she remembered could only help. She closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle feel of Eli’s hand on her back. Asher’s facepopped into view. Her instinct was to pull back from his smirk, but she leaned into it instead, powering through her visceral recoil.

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