Page 125 of Burn Like An Angel

Xander chuckles. “We’ll get you another stick. Come on, take my arm. You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.”

“It’s fine, the swelling is down.”

Gratefully accepting his elbow, I let him steer me through the unknown space. Once I commit the layout to memory, I’ll be fine. In the meantime, I despise being so dependent on others.

“Good luck with the snorer.”

“Thanks,” he drawls sarcastically.

“I’ll wake Ripley up.”

Easing the door open, I keep a hand stretched out to avoid any more collisions. Ripley’s stirring in the bed. She was exhausted when we arrived, passing out immediately once the doctor cleared her and she’d showered.

Finding the double bed, I crawl back underneath the cheap, scratchy duvet. Being roused by turbulent shaking and nausea twisting my gut wasn’t a pleasant awakening. She slept through it, though.

“Mmm,” Ripley moans.

Snuggling up to her back, I hold her in a close spoon. “Just me.”

“Where did you go?”

“To take my meds.” Her scent is an unfamiliar perfume, not the papaya fragrance I’m used to. “I don’t like the shower gel you're using.”

Laughing sleepily, she presses her back into me. “It was a bar of soap. This place is sparse.”

“What’s it like?”

“Bare.” Ripley pauses to yawn. “Kinda like a cheap London rental but unfinished. I don’t think anyone’s been here for a long time.”

“I guess safe houses aren’t supposed to be luxurious.”

“At this point, I would take a cardboard box on a street corner if it’s safe.” Her back vibrates with a laugh before she curses. “Ouch.”

We all heard the doctor declare her stable, though she’ll be multicoloured for a while. Thankfully, there’s no permanent damage from Harrison’s beating and the brutal tasing she received.

“How are the bruises?”

“Delightful,” she groans. “I can’t believe that bastard didn’t break a rib.”

“You got lucky.”

“Some didn’t.”

Ripley falls silent, and I know she’s thinking about Rae. Whenever I interacted with the girl, she was open and warm. I liked her energy.

“I’m sure Warner’s teammates have taken care of Rae.”

“I don’t even know if she had family,” Ripley replies thickly. “I know what type of razors she liked. How often she’d reorder. What she was willing to pay. Nothing actually important or meaningful.”

Unable to alleviate the guilt she’s overwhelmed by, I do the only thing I can. I hold her close, her spine aligned with my chest as I rock her gently. Her sobs are barely audible when they take over.

“How did Harrison even know we were friends?” she weeps. “It’s my fault. I let her get close. He used Rae against me.”

“Stop, Rip. Her death isn’t on you. Letting people get close doesn’t mean you’re sentencing them to death.”

“Doesn’t it?” She releases a miserable-sounding laugh. “I let her matter to me, and she’s dead.”

“Because a lunatic killed her. Did you ask him to?”

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