Page 138 of Maybe You

He shakes his head slowly.

“Whatever,” he finally mutters. He turns on his heel and stalks off.

I close my eyes for a second and blow out a breath of relief as his back disappears from view, before I turn around and face Sutton. I’m still pinching my nose, trying to get the blood to stop.

“Sit down,” Sutton says softly. So softly I can barely hear him over the noise of the traffic and the rush of blood in my ears. I follow the order and sink down on the steps.

“Keys?” he says next.

I dig them out and hand them over wordlessly. He unlocks the door, disappears inside and is back a little while later with a roll of paper towels, some cotton balls, and a bottle of antiseptic. He kneels down in front of me and gently wipes away the worst of the mess with the help of the towels and the antiseptic. The bitter smell permeates the air around me.

I keep my eyes on Sutton the whole time, because I think that if I look away even once, he’ll disappear.

There’s an ache in my chest and hope in my throat, and I don’t know how to handle either of those.

Or what to say.

Or what to do.

He holds the wad of paper towels against my nose, impossibly gentle and ominously silent.

Another calm before another storm, I think. Think and fear.

I finally take the risk and look away down at my hands, uselessly resting in my lap. When I look up, he’s still there.

“I think it’s stopped,” I say hoarsely.

He pulls his hand away slowly.

Reluctantly.

Or maybe I’m imagining it.

Maybe it’s easy.

Maybe me and my bloody nose are an inconvenience.

He sits back on his hunches. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

Chestache and hope again, a little more of the latter this time.

“Why are you here?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” he says.

“Why—” I start to ask, when a thought stops me. “Have you been here in the last few weeks?”

He avoids my gaze.

Some kind of piping hot ball lodges deep in my chest, so I feel like my insides are burning up.

“Have you?” I repeat. That horrible, deceitful hope spreads everywhere like wildfire.

His mouth stays firmly shut.

I blink.