Indigo(20)

“You wanted to talk about something else?”

Well, no, actually, now that she thought of it, something far more enticing than talking was on her mind.… She slid her hand toward his leg, but before her fingers touched down, she heard the word “Indigo.”

She stopped cold. “What?”

“I said, there’s been another Indigo report. I found an online post by an anonymous officer saying Indigo was spotted—”

“I don’t want to talk about Indigo.” She meant for the words to come casually, even softly, but they came rough, even harsh.

Sam’s arm loosened around her shoulders. “Okay … I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” she snapped.

Jesus, Nora, take it down a notch. Or ten.

She struggled to say something else, make some excuse for her outburst, but she couldn’t form the words. She fought against a roiling anger in her gut that said she didn’t need to apologize, that he should know she hated this subject.

Except she didn’t hate it. She’d always liked hearing him talk about Indigo, batting around theories with him.

Well, that was her first mistake. Sloppy. Careless. Dangerous. She needed to fix that now. Slap him down hard, so he’d never bring up Indigo again.

“If you want to talk about something else…,” he said cautiously.

“No, damn it. I don’t want to talk. Isn’t that obvious?” What the hell? Stop biting his head off. “If I wanted to talk, I would have gone to see Shelby. I came to you. Which means that what I want”—she put her hand on his thigh as she twisted to face him—“isn’t talk.”

He picked up her hand and moved it away, his voice cooling. “I understand you had a rough day, Nora, but—”

“No, you don’t understand at all. Or you wouldn’t be trying to talk to me. I don’t come to you for fine conversation, Sam.”

What the hell am I saying? Stop. Just stop.

But she couldn’t. It was as if she were standing outside the door banging to be let in as she listened to herself berate and insult him.

“All right.” He stood, his voice icy. “I think we’d better end this evening right about now. I’m going to give you a ride home—”

“Not really the ride I’m looking for.” She got to her feet. “Don’t act so shocked, Sam. Isn’t this what we do? We have sex. That’s it. So don’t act like you’re insulted that I came over here for exactly that. It’s what you usually want from me, and tonight, it’s what I want from you.”

She reached out, and he caught her by the wrists. “Okay, this is more than a bad day. Where were you, Nora? Did you go anywhere that someone could have slipped something into your drink or—”

She cut him off with a harsh laugh. “You think I was roofied? Why? Because I’m being honest for once? Honest about what we have and about what I want?”

His mouth tightened. “This is not what we have.”

“Could have fooled me. Once upon a time we pretended it was something else, but these days I’m pretty sure that every time we get together, we end up in bed. Sure, we talk, but that’s just the preamble. Pretending we’re friends so we don’t feel skeezy about the whole thing. Tonight, I’m cutting through the bullshit.”

She jerked her hands up hard to throw him off, but his grip was too tight, and when he didn’t let go, she lashed out—a surge of panic filling her, and she blacked out for a moment, blinded by that panic.

When she recovered, he was on the floor, his hand to his mouth, blood seeping through his fingers.

She moved forward to—to say something, anything. To explain. To apologize. For what she’d done, what she’d said.

Why? That’s what you feel. Deep down, it’s what you feel.

No, it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

She moved forward, but Sam scrambled up and backed away. The look in his eyes, that was the worst of it. Not the anger or confusion or outrage from a few moments ago. This was fear.

No, this was more than fear. This look said he didn’t know her, didn’t know whom he was looking at, but it sure as hell wasn’t Nora.

It was Indigo.

She was Indigo. Nora was Indigo. She’d done this to Sam. She’d said those things to him. No one else was to blame.

Her. All her.

Nora opened her mouth to apologize, and this time it wasn’t that something blocked the words. She simply couldn’t find any. Whoops, sorry, didn’t cut it here. Nothing did.

She turned and ran.

Behind her, she heard Sam say, “Hold on!” His feet pounded as he came after her, but she was already flying out the door, and when he called, “Nora! You shouldn’t be—” she dove into the welcoming darkness before he could finish.

She imagined him darting into the hallway, mouth agape as he looked both ways, wondering how the hell she’d got down the stairs so fast.

Stupid, she thought. So stupid.

*

The shadows deposited Nora in her apartment. She sat on the cold linoleum, her back against the fridge, knees drawn up. The cats slunk in and circled, not so much concerned as curious. When Hyde nudged her hand, the shadows swirled and all three raced off, hissing.

It’s for the best.