Page 170 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Something fell to the floor, smashed. Glass candle.Cedar Delight.

‘Jet!’

She let go, too weak to hold on.

On the floor.

Billy’s face swimming above her, sitting her up, his hands cupping her face.

‘Jet!’

‘It’s happening, Billy.’

‘No!’ Billy was screaming, now she couldn’t anymore. ‘No! We had more time! We need more time!’

Jet shook her head, as much as she could move, the pain moving with it.

‘It’s happening,’ she said.

‘OK,’ Billy swallowed, his face folding in half, fighting his tears. Losing. ‘It’s OK, Jet. I’m right here.’

‘Billy –’

‘– You did it. You did it, Jet,’ he cried. ‘You solved it. It was me. You’re right. You got it right. You did it.’

‘No, Billy.’ Couldn’t shake her head anymore.

‘Yes, Jet. It was me, it was me, it was me.’ He sobbed. ‘You did it. It was me.’

Jet smiled. Just half, that’s all she could do. ‘No, Billy. I know. It wasn’t you.’

She knew.

Of course she knew.

Everything was coming undone and still she knew.

This was Billy.

Billy would never hurt her. Never. She didn’t know who had, but she did know that. Would bet her whole life on it. And that’s what mattered.

This.

Just this.

Her arm jolted out, legs too.

Stiffening.

Seizing.

Couldn’t move because everything moved for her, shuddering. Head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling when she wanted to look at Billy, into his eyes. Not ice, just water, and the storm behind them.

He held her, held her until it was over, everything weak again, melting to the floor.

But she wasn’t on the floor. She was in Billy’s lap, her head in the crook of his arm.

‘I’m here, Jet,’ he cried over her. ‘You did it, it was me.’

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