The Hollow Page 0,82

Pansies rioted in the tub in front of the flower shop. People strolled, some in shirtsleeves, as if sucking down this taste of spring after the last gulp of winter. He curled his hands into fists, and followed the steps.

He waited for a break in traffic, crossed the street.

Amy came out of the back of the flower shop. "Hey, Fox. How you doing? Fabulous day, isn't it? About time, too."

Close enough, he thought, keeping his eyes on her face. "Yeah. How've you been?"

"No complaints. Are you looking for something for the office? Mrs. Hawbaker usually picked out an arrangement on Mondays. You don't want to buy office flowers on a Friday, Fox."

"No." Though some of the knots in his belly loosened- not the same-they tightened again when he glanced over and saw the daffodils. "It's personal. Those are what I'm after."

"Aren't they sweet? All cheerful and hopeful." She turned, and he stared at the faint reflection of her face in the glass. She smiled, but it was Amy's smile, as cheerful as the flowers.

She chattered as she prepared them, wrapped them, but the words slipped in and out of his mind as he searched the air for the scent of something rotting. And found nothing but fresh and floral.

"Are they for your girl?"

He gave her a quick, sharp look. "Yeah. Yeah, they're for my girl."

Her smile only went brighter as they exchanged money for blooms. "She'll love them. If you want something for the office, I'll have a nice arrangement for you Monday."

"Okay, thanks." He turned to go.

"Say hi to Layla for me."

He closed his eyes, relief, guilt, gratitude rushing through him. "I will. See you later."

Maybe he was a little dizzy when he stepped outside, a little shaky in the knees, but when he made himself look, the door of the old library was closed. His gaze traveled up, up, but no one he loved stood poised for death on the narrow ledge of the turret.

He crossed the street again. She was at her desk when he came in the front door. She flicked him a glance, then looked deliberately away.

"There are messages on your desk. Your two o'clock called to reschedule for next week."

He walked to her, held out the flowers. "I'm sorry."

"They're very nice. I'll go put them in water."

"I'm sorry," he repeated when she rose and made to brush by him.

She paused, just two beats. "All right." And taking the flowers, walked away.

He wanted to let it go. What was the point in dredging it all up? What could possibly be the point? It wasn't about trust, it was about pain. Wasn't he entitled to his own pain? Hurting, he strode back to the kitchen where she filled a vase with water.

"Listen, are we supposed to turn ourselves inside out, show off our guts? Is that what it takes?"

"No."

"We don't have to know every damn detail about each other."

"No, we don't." She began to slip the tender green stems into the water, one by one.

"I had a nightmare. I've had nightmares almost as long as I can remember. We've all had them now."

"I know."

"Is that your way of dragging it out of me? To agree with everything I say?"

"It's my way of controlling myself so I don't kick your ass and step over it on my way out."

"I don't want to fight."

"Yes, you do. That's exactly what you want, and I'm not going to give you what you want. You don't deserve it."

"Jesus Christ." He stormed around the little room and in a rare show of violence kicked at the cabinets. "She's dead. Carly's dead. I didn't save her, and she died."

Layla turned away from the sunbeams in the bright blue vase. "I'm so sorry, Fox."

"Don't." He pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Just don't."

"Don't be sorry because you lost someone who must have mattered a great deal to you? Don't be sorry because you're hurting? What do you expect from me?"

"Right now, I don't have the first clue." He dropped his hands. "We met the spring before my twenty-third birthday, when I was in New York, in law school. She was a medical student. She wanted to work in emergency medicine. We met at a party. We started seeing each other. Casually. Casually at first, for a while. We were both studying, crazy schedules. She stayed in New York during the summer break, and I came home. But I went up a few times because things were getting more serious."

When he sat at the kitchen