“That the only time you did that?”

She nodded.

“Denny ever say thanks, show gratitude, anything?”

“Nothing, I didn’t know he knew I existed,” she told him then her eyes, still on him, went far away and she went on. “I’d smile at him in the halls. I remember. I’d smile at him even when he was scrawny. But also when he filled out,” she focused on Colt again and finished, “he never smiled back, looked right through me.”

Colt had never been scrawny and he’d never been teased, growing up he had his own hell to deal with but it wasn’t that.

February had never been scrawny either and, because of him and Morrie, definitely never teased. She was a pretty little girl who grew into a very pretty teenager who grew up to be a very beautiful woman.

A pretty girl smiling at a shy, skinny, taunted kid with greasy hair, f**k, it must have felt like the clouds opened up and angels shined their light on him.

“Denny come into the bar very often?” Colt asked.

“I haven’t seen him since I’ve been home,” she answered and then said, “Colt, I don’t think I’ve seen him since high school.”

“Far as we can see, he fits the profile, Feb, and he’s disappeared and he took fifteen K out of his bank before he did.”

Feb dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “This can’t be.”

He gave her another squeeze at her neck to get her attention and he got it. She righted her head and looked at him again.

“All sorts of shit trips triggers,” Colt said gently, “maybe that tripped his.”

“That’s insane.”

Colt couldn’t help it, he smiled. “Honey, he’s the guy, he’s not acting exactly normal.”

The skin around her eyes went soft as did her eyelids and her lips tilted up at the ends before she muttered, “This is true.”

He’d never seen her face get soft like that, never seen that little smile, her look saying a lot, sharing humor but still holding something back. Fuck, but it was sexy as all hell.

She didn’t move, didn’t pull away from his hand when she kept talking. “I can see him knowing about Angie, he was in that class, he could take the note. And Pete,” she didn’t even hesitate in saying her ex’s name, Colt was surprised to note, and she hadn’t said Pete’s name in Colt’s presence since the day she showed up bloodied and broken on Morrie’s doorstep, “everyone knew about him. But Butch?”

“It’s him, there’s a trail and we’ll find it.”

She studied him a moment before she nodded then her eyes drifted to his throat. “Will you do something for me, Colt?”

What he’d like to do was tell her to stop calling him Colt and call him Alec again but he didn’t say that.

Instead he said, “What?”

Her hand came up and she grabbed his wrist which was holding his bourbon. She lifted his hand with the glass up between their bodies and she rested her glass to his. She kept her head bent, her gaze on their drinks for a second before she looked at him.

“Angie was f**ked up but she was a good person. Her parents were nearly as shitty as yours and she wasn’t touched with a lot of love,” Feb said softly then he felt her put pressure on her glass against his. “To Angie,” she whispered then she took a drink.

Colt put pressure on her neck and she came a few inches closer before he took his own sip.

When they were done, she put her glass up between them again and taking her cue, he rested his against hers. Her eyes grew soft, this time in a different way, before she kept speaking.

“You had a great dog, Colt.”

Fuck, she was killing him.

“I know,” he whispered.

“To Puck,” she whispered back and he felt his glass press into his hand before they both lifted them and drank again.

“This’ll be harder,” she told him, her glass again against his and her eyes again at his throat.

“Do it,” he murmured.

She looked at him and said, “He was a dick, but he didn’t deserve that,” she pressed her glass against his. “To Pete.”

Colt thought if Pete Hollister were ever to have a toast made to him that said it all, that was it, so he drank as did Feb and they resumed their positions.

“You didn’t know him and he f**ked me over but he was a fun guy who made me laugh,” she pulled in a short breath and let it out on a shorter sigh. “To Butch.”

On the last toast, Colt drained his glass dry, so did Feb and he put his on the counter, taking hers out of her hand and placing it beside his. Then he used his hand at her neck to pull her body to his and wrapped his arms around her.

She slid her arms around his waist.

Then she whispered into his chest, “See. Told you I’m not gonna leave.”

“You’re doin’ great, baby.”

Resistance he didn’t know she was holding in her body drained away and she softened against him.

“Can I cry now?” she asked but her voice said she was already doing it.

“Have at it.”

Four days, four deaths, four times Feb cried in his arms.

He’d be the fool Susie accused him of being if he didn’t admit he liked the feel of her right where she was.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t f**king jump for joy when this shit was over and at that moment he’d sell his soul so she’d never cry again.

When he heard the tears subside, he said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked his chest.

“For trusting me enough to give that to me instead of keepin’ it in and lettin’ it eat more of you away.”

She gave a slight jerk in his arms, not resistance, surprise, before she settled back in.

Finally, she tilted her head back and he looked down at her but he didn’t move his arms.

“I need to go to sleep,” she said softly.

“You gonna be able to do that?”

“I’ll take some of Doc’s pills.”

“That okay if you’ve been drinking?”

“I’ll check the bottle.”

Without another tactic left to him to delay, Colt let her go.

She started to the door but turned in its frame and looked back at him.

“I know it’s heavy, Colt. Thanks for sharing the weight of it,” she whispered then she walked with a hurried step, leaving him staring after her long after she disappeared down the hall.

Yes, she was f**king killing him.