Page 24 of Until Death Parts Us

“I cleaned every surface we touched, and even ones we didn’t,” I tell him.

“Our prints aren’t in any system anyway,” he replies.

“I know, but no need to get them in there now.”

“I booked the room under a false name and sent him money via a prepaid gift card.”

I nod, biting back my smile because he’d hate to admit he’s learning some of my tactics. He complains I’m not spontaneous enough, but spontaneity is recklessness. He’s still more reckless than I am, but he’s picking up some of my habits. It’s almost like we’re a normal couple sometimes.

I snort as we enter the RV.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about our relationship, and how normal it can be sometimes.”

He knits his brows, a slow smile on his lips. “Normal?”

I shake my head. “You’d have to be in my head.”

He scoffs. “No thanks.”

Once we settle in and I begin driving, Kaspian speaks up again. “So, we’re normal now? Should we get some IKEA furniture and build it together?”

“No. I think I’ll actually kill you then.”

He laughs before groaning in pain. “Can we be normal enough to get some breakfast from McDonald’s so I can take some fucking medicine before I kill myself?”

With a snort, I say, “Yeah, we can do that.”

After a while on the road, Kaspian brings up the subject I don’t want to talk about yet.

“Quin.”

“Kaspian.” His name is said in a warning. I know where he’s going, but I’m too angry and not quite settled yet.

“I didn’t leave the area.”

I glance over at him. “What?”

“I didn’t leave. I was waiting for you. I was ambushed from behind.”

“I know,” I say after a few seconds.

“I didn’t want you to think?—”

“I know, Kaspian.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

I inhale deeply through my nose, gripping the steering wheel. “I don’t need your gratitude for saving your life. It’s not like it was a choice, Kaspian. It’s not like a stupid fucking gift I bought you and you’re grateful for. You thanked me the last time I had to sew you up. And what did I tell you then?”

He swallows. “Not to do that to you again.”

“I said I can’t exist in a world where you don’t. I meant that then, and mean it even more so now. Don’t thank me for being selfish. I refuse to live if you’re not living.” He doesn’t say anything, and I keep my eyes on the road as I turn off toward a town. “But yeah, don’t do it again either.”

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