Page 43 of What's Left of Us

We paid for the plot, Vinny and I. The prison wanted to do a cremation and simple grave if there was no one to claim the body, but we claimed it.

They wouldn’t let me see the body. I wanted to. I needed to prove to myself that he’s truly gone. Vinny went back long enough to argue with the doctor, but ultimately they convinced us that we didn’t want to remember him that way. If he meant something to us, we wanted to remember the good.

“Alastair!” I yell, my voice carrying across the empty space. No one else is here. I stumble, and as I catch myself on the wet grass I realize I’m wearing a long black dress.

It’s raining again, and the sunshine is gone. My voice sounds sadder when I speak. “Alastair?”

He’s still facing away from me, wearing the orange jumpsuit of all things. His hair somehow remains dry despite the rain, and I move closer. He’s not getting wet, but my low cut dress feels heavy and soaked, like going through the funeral all over again.

As I reach out to touch him, he turns. His eyes don’t focus on me, in fact they don’t focus on anything. The vivid green and deep brown I’m familiar with are cloudy, and he doesn’t look on me or even look down. “You didn’t follow my clues.”

“W-what?” I ask, stumbling back. I trip on the skirt, falling into the mud, and my hands catch on something.

A box? No… the coffin. I look down and it’s the fancy coffin we buried him in. It’s in the dirt now, but here it’s still in the same spot on the grass.

“My clues,” he says, and I don’t understand what he’s saying. My eyes move to the tombstone, and it’s still blank. He’s not even labeled. “On the walls. I never said anything I didn’t mean.”

“You admitted to killing people you didn’t!” I scream, looking up at him. He’s turned now, his unfocused gaze eerie as I stare at him.

Then I’m screaming again, because the jumpsuit is stained. Stained red with blood, and there’s two gunshot wounds in his chest.

“Wake up!”

I scramble back from him, but Alastair doesn’t move. He still faces me, but there’s no fight in him. No affliction in his voice, no emotion, no hate. He’s just… there.

Like a ghost, watching but unable to interact with me.

“Jo!”

I jolt awake, instinctively lashing out to push away whoever's touching me. My hand connects with something and it shocks me, my eyes widening as I scramble back from the source.

I’m in bed, the sun’s gone down. I’m still wearing my loungewear from earlier, and Sterling is standing in the room.

The bathroom door tears open as Vinny appears. There’s water dripping down his body, and he’s not wearing a towel. “I told you to give me one second to wake her!”

Sterling’s cheek is red, and he looks with wide eyes between us. “She was screaming!”

“So was I,” Vinny snaps, pacing across the room. I’m trying to still wake up, and it’s wild looking between Sterling in his streetwear and Vinny completely naked as he storms over and sits beside me. “You don’t listen well, agent.”

Swallowing, Sterling looks between the two of us. “I - I didn’t mean any harm.”

Vinny nods, cupping my cheek. His hand is damp, and he brushes his thumb across my skin. “You were crying.”

I’m not that surprised, but I reach up and touch the other side of my face anyway to check. He’s right. I shift my gaze from him to Sterling. “That’s why you woke me?”

He shrugs, brushing the back of his head. “Vinny let me in a while ago, said you were sleeping and he wanted to shower before you got up. I was downstairs and I heard you.”

I nod, glancing towards my husband. “He was only trying to help.”

“I know that,” Vinny says, glancing up at Sterling. The red mark on his cheek is fading a little, and Sterling’s eyes keep jumping around the room as he avoids looking at us. It occurs to me that he rarely sees Vinny in all his gorgeous naked glory because I’m in between them.

It shouldn’t, but it amuses me. The corner of my mouth hooks up as I watch him watch my husband, and it doesn’t seem to bother Vinny at all as he leans back on the bed, propping one elbow up as he stares at Sterling.

Vinny is covered in tattoos from his neck down, and I trace my fingers across his bare skin. Having my other two men here in the room with me helps to block out the nightmare of losing Alastair.

“You don’t always have to look nervous with us,” Vinny says with a chuckle. “This isn’t new anymore. Wanna show him what he’s denying himself, Jo?”

I nod, glancing at Sterling again. A lot of feelings threaten to bubble up as I stare at him, and I swallow them down when Vinny winds his fingers through my hair. My gaze drops to my husband’s lap, his cock already hard despite the cool air and the water drying on his skin.

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