Karin Slaughter - Fallen

She didn’t have a good answer to that, so she went with a threat. “I swear I’ll kill myself if you walk out that door.”

Will left the room.

She followed him down the hallway. “I’ll take pills. I’ll slit my wrists. That’s one of your favorites, isn’t it? I’ll slit my wrists, and you’ll come home and find me. How’s that gonna make you feel, Wilbur? How’re you gonna feel if you come home from fucking your precious little doctor and I’m dead in the bathroom?”

He picked up Betty from the floor. “Annie Sullivan.”

“What?”

“That’s the woman who taught Helen Keller.”

Will went into the garage and closed the door behind him. The last thing he saw was Angie standing in the hallway, fists clenched in front of her. He got into his car. He waited for the garage door to open. He backed the car into the driveway and waited for the door to close.

Betty settled down into the seat beside him as he drove away. He cracked the window so she could enjoy the night air. Will didn’t think about where he was going until he pulled into the parking lot in front of Sara’s building. He grabbed the dog and carried her to the front entrance. Sara was on the top floor. He pressed the buzzer. He didn’t have to say anything. There was a responding buzz, and the lock clicked open.

Betty squirmed as they got into the elevator. He put her down at his feet. When they reached the top floor, she ran out into the hall. Sara’s door was open. She was standing in the middle of the room. Her hair was loose and down around her shoulders. She was wearing jeans and a thin white T-shirt that didn’t do much to conceal what was underneath.

Will closed the door. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but when he finally managed to speak, none of it came out. “Why didn’t you tell me you saw Angie?”

She didn’t answer. She just stood there looking at him. Will couldn’t stop himself from looking back. Her shirt was tight. He could see the swell of her breasts, her nipples pressing into the thin material.

He said, “I’m sorry.” His voice broke. He would never forgive himself for bringing Angie into Sara’s life. It was the most awful thing he had ever done to anyone. “What she said to you. I never wanted …”

Sara walked toward him.

“I’m so sorry.”

She took his hand and turned it so that the palm was facing up. Her fingers moved nimbly over the buttons on his sleeve.

Will wanted to pull away. He needed to pull away. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t make his muscles work. He couldn’t stop her hands or her fingers or her mouth.

She pressed her lips to his bare wrist. It was the gentlest kiss he had ever known. Her tongue flicked lightly along the skin, tracing the scar up his arm. Will felt like a current was going through his body, so that by the time she kissed his mouth, he was already on fire. Her body curved into his. The kiss deepened. Her hand wrapped around the back of his head, nails scraping through his hair. Will was dizzy. He was in free fall. He couldn’t stop touching her—her narrow hips, the curve at the small of her back, her perfect breasts.

His breath caught when her hand slipped inside his shirt. Her fingers brushed over his chest, down his belly. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t falter. Instead, she put her forehead to his, looked him in the eye, and told him, “Breathe.”

Will let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding his entire life.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SARA WOKE TO HEAR THE SHOWER RUNNING. SHE TURNED OVER in bed. Her hand traced along the indentation left in the pillow. The sheets were twisted around her body. Her hair was a mess. She could still smell Will in the room, taste him in her mouth, remember what his arms felt like when they’d wrapped around her.

She could not recall the last time good reasons had made her not want to get out of bed in the morning. Obviously, it had happened when Jeffrey was alive, but for the first time in four and a half years, Jeffrey was the last thing on Sara’s mind. She wasn’t making comparisons. She wasn’t weighing differences. Her worst fear had always been that her husband’s ghost would follow her into the bedroom. But that hadn’t been the case. There was only Will, and the absolute joy she felt when she was with him.

Sara had a vague recollection that her clothes were somewhere between the kitchen and the dining room. She pulled a black silk robe out of the closet and made her way down the hall. The dogs gave her a lazy look from the couch as she walked into the living room. Betty was sleeping on a pillow. Billy and Bob were piled into a crescent shape around her. Will had to be at work in an hour or Sara would’ve joined him in the shower. Yesterday, she had told the hospital staff that she didn’t need time off after her ordeal, but this morning, she was glad they had insisted. She needed to process what had happened. And she wanted to be home when Will got off work.

Her clothes were neatly folded on the counter. Sara smiled, thinking she’d at last found a good use for her dining room table. She turned on the coffeemaker. There was a yellow Post-it note on the wall above the dog bowls. Will had drawn a smiley face in the center. She saw another note with the same graphic above the leashes. There was something to be said for a man who fed and walked the dogs while Sara was sleeping. She stared at the blue ink, the arc of a smile and two dots for eyes.

Sara had never pursued a man before. She had always been on the receiving end of the wooing. But she’d realized last night that nothing would ever happen if she didn’t make the first move. And she had wanted something to happen. She had wanted Will more than anything she’d wanted in a long while.

He’d been tentative at first. He was obviously self-conscious about his body, which was laughable considering how beautiful it was. His legs were strong and lean. His shoulders were roped with muscle. His abs would be perfectly at home on an underwear billboard in the middle of Times Square. It wasn’t just that, though. His hands knew exactly where to touch her. His mouth felt wonderful. His tongue felt wonderful. Everything about him was wonderful. Being with him felt like a key sliding into a lock. Sara had never dreamed that she would ever again be so open with another man.

If there was any comparison to be made, it was between Sara and her old self. Something was altered inside of her, and not just her moral compass. She felt different with Will. She didn’t have to immediately know everything about this man she’d shared her bed with. She didn’t feel the need to demand answers about the obvious abuse he had suffered. For the first time in her life, Sara felt patient. The girl who had gotten kicked out of Sunday school for arguing with the teacher and driven her parents, her sister, and eventually her husband crazy with her unyielding desire to understand every last detail about everything on earth was finally learning how to relax.

Maybe seeing the Polaroid of Will’s sutured mouth had taught her a lesson about prying. Or maybe it was just the nature of life that you learned from past mistakes. For now, Sara was content to just be with Will. The rest would come in time. Or it wouldn’t. Either way, she felt remarkably content.

There was an insistent knock at the door, probably Abel Conford from across the hall. The lawyer had anointed himself czar of the parking lot. Every board meeting Sara attended started with Abel complaining about visitors parking in the wrong spaces.

Sara pulled her robe tight as she opened the door. Instead of her neighbor, she found Faith Mitchell.