You Owe Me a Murder(67)

“I don’t know,” I hedged, picking my words carefully. “Remember our waitress? She looked like she thought you were pretty hot.” His lip twitched and I could see he was trying not to laugh. “After all, some people are into weird shit.”

“Nothing against her, but she isn’t the girl I was trying to impress.”

My heart cracked like brittle ice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. I could kick myself for losing that stupid EpiPen. My mom is going to have a goat when she gets here.”

I held his hand through the metal railing on the side of the bed. There was no point in telling him he hadn’t lost the pen. I didn’t know exactly how Nicki had taken it, although it didn’t surprise me that she knew how to pickpocket. She might have bumped him on the sidewalk or sat next to him on the Tube and picked it out of his backpack as though she were a character from a Dickens novel.

“Your mom won’t be mad—?she’ll just be glad you’re okay.”

“You might think that, but you haven’t met my mom. She didn’t want me to come on this trip because of my allergies. We almost never go out to eat because she doesn’t trust restaurants. When we travel anywhere, including to my grandma’s, she brings our own food in a cooler. This is going to convince her that her paranoia is justified. She’s going to take me home and seal me in a bubble.”

“I’m so sorry this happened,” I said. My heart gave way and broke into a thousand pieces. This was my fault.

Alex reached over and wiped a single tear off my cheek. “Hey, it was just some stupid cross-contamination thing.”

I nodded to please him, but it was my fault. He wouldn’t have been hurt if it hadn’t been for me. Nicki had gone after him to get to me. “You almost died,” I said quietly.

“But I didn’t. And who knows, maybe the exposure to the shrimp will end up giving me superpowers.”

“Like Batman,” I said.

Alex closed his eyes. “We soooo need to take you to a comic con at some point. For a woman who knows sci-fi, your superhero references are shit. Batman wasn’t bit by a bat. I was going for Spider-Man. I’m thinking I’ll be known as Crustacean Man. Shrimp Man sounds wimpy.”

“You can’t have that—?then the bad guys won’t be afraid of you.” I liked Alex’s cartoon view of the world, where a bad guy was easy to identify. Not like real life, where she looked like a nice person to pass a plane delay with.

“I’ve got to figure out something for an outfit. I look pretty good in pink, so I’ve got that going for me.” He rubbed my knuckles and I flinched—?they were still sore from hitting Nicki—?but I didn’t pull my hand away. I deserved the pain.

“They’re supposed to discharge me later today once my parents get here,” Alex said. “Staying overnight at a hospital is a first for me and I’m not keen to repeat it.”

“Are you going home tomorrow?”

He nodded. “I tried to tell my parents I wanted to stay, but there’s no way. My mom is already preparing my hypo-allergenic bubble.”

My throat grew tight. “I’m going to miss you.” I hated the idea of him leaving, but it was better. Safer.

He made an exaggerated dismissive wave. “Woman, you’re going to have to do your best to live without me for a couple days.”

“Yeah, about that . . .”

I hated to do this, but I had to. I had to put him first. Being close to me put Alex in danger. The best thing I could do for him was to get as much space between the two of us as possible. As long as Nicki thought he was important to me, the greater his risk, if I didn’t do what she wanted.

And if I did murder her mom, then I’d never be able to look at Alex again. How could I kill an innocent person and then go back to living my life as though nothing had happened? Alex was a good person. He deserved someone who was the same. I had no choice.

Alex pulled himself farther up on the pillows. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“I think it might be good if we took a break,” I said, pushing the words out.

He blinked. “Are you joking?”

“I mean, it’s been great, but when we get back, we’re both going to be really busy with school and stuff,” I said. I couldn’t look at him.

“You’re dumping me?” Alex’s voice was so loud, the guy in the next bed jolted awake with a juicy snort, as if his tongue had slipped down his throat. He looked surprised to see me there.

I lowered my voice. “We’ve both got a lot going on and—?”

“Stop saying ‘we’ when this is clearly about you,” Alex said.

“Um, do you want me to leave?” the man in the next bed said, holding the blanket to the side, exposing his scrawny legs, as if he were ready to make a run for it. Alex waved him off without even acknowledging what he’d said.

“Okay, I’ve got a lot going on. I’m not sure I can be in a relationship right now. I don’t have the emotional resources.”

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you hear yourself? ‘Emotional resources’? You sound like a bad episode of Dr. Phil. Is this because I got sick? They’re allergies—?I don’t have some kind of plague.”

“It’s not that.”