Page 20 of Deja New
With that, he walked away and—as happened every time—he never slowed, or even glanced back. It always looked, to her, like he was marching back to war.
She put her face in her hands, then groaned into her fingers. “Waste of time. All of it. Son of a bitch. Sorry, Archer. Sorry, Leah.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” her cousin said. “You’re a goddamned hero as far as I’m concerned, putting yourself through this for all of us.”
Not really. I’m putting myself through this for all of me.But she could never say that. Would never.
And then, featherlight, she felt a touch between her shoulder blades, too brief to be a pat. She took the small comfort that had been offered, and cursed herself again for being such a shit to Archer when they were kids. This had to be as awful for him as it was for her, but he still took time to let her know with a nonverbal signal that he was there except he wasn’t, he was sitting too far away, beside Leah, it was impossible for him to have reached across so who the hell...
Oh.
Detective Chambers.
Oh.
Meaningless, she reminded herself. But she could still feel that touch.
