Page 88 of The Italian Reckoning
“No,” she says firmly. “You don’t deserve any more of my time.”
As Bobby’s lips part for a retort, Sarah lifts the gun and shoots him straight between the eyes. The silence afterward is eerie, but I refuse to move or speak until Sarah does. She’s silent and unmoving, clearly processing.
When she turns to face me and hands the gun back, her eyes are shining with unshed tears. “It’s over.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, holstering my weapon. “It is. You got him.”
“I wish I got him sooner.”
“Hey.” Taking her hand, I gently thread out fingers together. “I wishIgot him sooner. But he’s gone now. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“I never said thank you.”
“For?”
“For coming for me,” Sarah whispers. “You were there. You came for me and you found me.”
“I’ll always come find you,” I swear softly. “I promise. That’s what aboyfrienddoes, right?”
“I actually believe you. Y’know, anyone would think you have a crush on me.” A watery smile finally spreads across her lips. “I like it.”
“So does this mean I get to say I told you so?” I ask, guiding her out of the room and leaving Bobby to rot.
“About?”
“My way clearly won.” It’s hard to keep the playful smile to a minimum. “Your way was rules and evidence, a trial and jury. My way is… well, exactly that.”
Sarah breaks off into soft giggles and shoves me lightly with her shoulders. “Fuck off.”
“But I win, right?” Squeezing her hand, I bring her knuckles to my lips. “I totally win.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I totally win.”
“Whatever. So…” Sarah hesitates as we exit the garage and the warm afternoon sun bakes down on us. “What do we do now?”
I gaze down at her beautiful face and squeeze her hand. “Whatever the hell we want to.”
38
SARAH
Recovery is slow.
Killing Bobby doesn’t bring me the magical closure I hoped it would. The day I arrive home after Bobby’s death, I close myself off from the world, including away from Rocky. I tell myself that I need to do this alone because last time, I did it alone. I dragged myself through that hell once and I can do it again. All I need is Iris.
But it’s different this time. Somehow, everything is so much worse.
Every noise in my apartment makes me jump, even the familiar groan of the boiler and the clang of the pipes twenty minutes after a shower. I try my best to act like everything is okay when work calls to let me know all my saved up holiday days are in use and they hope to see me back soon. I act like I’m peachy when Rocky texts begging me to talk to him. Despite how carefully I word my texts, he’s not convinced and he sits outside my apartment in his car every single night.
It irritates me because I want to do this alone. I should be able to get through this alone.
I can’t.
Rocky breaks into my apartment three days later when the screams from my nightmares are so loud he hears them down in the street. He wakes me up and takes every panicked punch and blow from me until I dissolve into tears in his arms and sob like I’m breaking apart. I want him gone and I tell him as such, but Rocky refuses to go anywhere. He holds me like he never wants to let me go, and touch like that is equal parts triggering and comforting.
I want him gone because I don’t want him to see me like this.
