not in the mood to talk,” she said.
“So I’ll wait until you are in the mood,” he said. “I’m patient.”
“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “You told me that. You told me a lot of things. Maybe you should just go home and get some sleep.”
“I never sleep at night,” he told her.
“Oh. Well, fortunately, that is not my problem. So go do whatever it is that you do at night, if you don’t sleep. Bye.”
“You have to let me explain,” he said.
She held up a warning hand. “Oh, no need for that. The nice patrolman explained it all to me. While trying not to laugh in my face.”
He winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Huh. Me too.” She looked more closely at his face. His nose was puffy, his eye swollen half shut. “You look awful,” she said bluntly.
His mouth twitched. “Yeah. My brother popped me a good one to get me under control.”
“How lovely. What pleasant siblings you must have. This would be the brother who’s in the Shakespeare play? The fountain of blood?”
“No, the fountain of blood was Jamie, my youngest brother. The one who punched me was Christian, the next to youngest.”
“So you had two brothers involved in the fake massacre. Is this a form of sibling rivalry? Do they play this kind of trick on you often?”
“I actually have three brothers,” he offered. “There’s Jack, the oldest. I have a little sister, too. Her name’s Fiona. She’s twenty-five.”
“I shudder to think of what your family gatherings must be like.”
He smiled briefly at that. “Hey, so do I, sometimes.”
She didn’t smile back, and the silence grew heavy and cold.
“Abby,” he said. “Please. I didn’t know about the fight rehearsal. I had a terrible scare, too, and I feel just as stupid. Forgive me. Please.”
She stared up at the moon. “Maybe you have no idea what I went through. First, I witness a gruesome murder. Then I see you dive into the middle of it. I leave you to get help, and feel like garbage because I couldn’t save you. I was sure you were dead, or dying. And then, I find out that it’s just a big, funny joke, and I am the butt of it.”
“No, Abby,” he pleaded. “Nobody thinks that.”
“I’m glad that you weren’t killed. Don’t get me wrong. But it was tough, you know? First, the horror, and then I get to feel stupid, too.”
He rubbed his face, gingerly. “God,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say, except that I bet it was worse for me than it was for you. I practically killed an innocent guy tonight.”
An explosive sound, half bitter laughter, half sob, burst out of her. “God, Zan. Is that little detail actually supposed to comfort me?”
He drew in a sharp breath and turned away, leaning on the porch railing. He rested his face in his hands. She wanted so badly to soothe and pet him, it hurt. Finally she reached out and touched his nose with her fingertip. “Does it hurt?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “But I’ll live.”
“I’m glad,” she quavered. “I’m really, really glad of that.”
“Oh, Abby.” He reached for her.
She lurched away. “No. I do not want to see fountains of blood, or watch a man I care about jump into a knife fight! Forget it! No more!”
“Abby, try to understand,” he pleaded. “I didn’t know—”
“Oh, I’m great at understanding,” she said bitterly. “That’s what’s ruined my life so far. I’m drawing the line now. A thick, black line.”
“But he was my brother!” Zan protested. “I did what I had to do!”
“Of course you did. I don’t fault you for it. You were very brave. Your brother is lucky you care so much. But I just cannot deal. So I’ve made my decision.” She took a deep breath. “You don’t fit the profile.”
His eyes narrowed. “Huh? What the fuck is the profile?”
She steeled herself. “I don’t want adventures like this in my life. Ever again. Therefore, I need to stay away from a certain type of man.”
“Type?” He looked bewildered. “What type am I?”
She shook her head. It was so hard to verbalize this kind of thing. “It’s…the black leather, the tattoos, the fighting, the whole lifestyle.”
“What lifestyle? What the hell do you know about my lifestyle?”
“I know what I need to know. You live in an abandoned factory—”
“Abandoned? Abby, my apartment is not a—”
“I want a normal life!” she yelled. “I want a normal man, a normal car, a normal house! Nice things! And I don’t want to have to feel guilty about wanting them! I’m entitled! It’s not too goddamn much to ask!”
“Yeah? Edgar? Or Reginald?” Zan flung back at her. “Is that who you want to see when you roll over in the morning and open your eyes?”
She winced. “No. But I don’t want the kind of thing that happened to me tonight. I know for sure that I don’t want that.”
His throat bobbed. “You surprise me. I wouldn’t have taken you for a judgmental, materialistic bitch. You look so warm and real.”
Ouch. She flinched back. “You’d better go,” she whispered.
“Oh yeah. I’m going. Sweet dreams, Abby. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Because it’s exactly what you deserve.” He turned and ran down the stairs.
“Zan!” she called, prompted by God knew what crazy impulse.
He looked back over his shoulder. The look in his eyes broke her heart. “I’m really sorry,” she faltered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So don’t make it worse.” He disappeared into the dark.
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