Unstable by S.E. Hall

out of her. Told her she did the right thing and one day…I’d understand that.
    She died with that false hope still in her heart. But it wasn’t false, and he was right—I am back—just too late.
    “She loved him. And if you loved someone, what wouldn’t you do for them? If your house caught on fire, would you sit on the sidewalk and wait for the firemen to arrive, knowing your other half was still trapped inside? Or would you go back in and die with them, die trying to save them?”
    His answer is automatic, a reverent promise said while his gaze locked with mine stays steady. “If I loved someone, you’d find us with our fingers melted together, because I’d be right beside her, holding her hand, to the very end.”
    I inhale a bottomless breath, pushing down the sob already halfway up my throat and blink rapidly to refuse the creeping tears. “And now you know why my mom, against all reason, went in after him.”
    He nods. “Guess I do.”

 
    THE NEXT MORNING, I wake on the couch with the sun blazing in my eyes, which I’m almost used to now, and a huge question burning in my mind so fiercely it eliminates room for any other thoughts.
    I almost think myself deranged, my curiosity morbid, but I want to hear Gatlin’s account of that night too.
    I want every possible, bothersome blank filled with an answer. I can’t explain it, but I need as much closure as I can get.
    Per my new usual, I shower, change, and grab a banana for myself and several slices of lunch meat for Bourbon, since I still haven’t spotted his bowl or figured out where the dog food’s kept, and head outside.
    And there he sits, tail wagging in greeting.
    “Here ya go, boy. I’ll go buy you some bowls and food today, I promise.”
    He gobbles up the turkey so fast my heart aches with fault, so I immediately go back inside and grab my keys. The mere thought of venturing into town, especially having just seen everyone at the funeral, turns my stomach. But Bourbon’s is empty…and that’s motivation enough for me to suck it up, because my faithful dog deserves better than a cowardly owner that lets him starve.
    “You wanna go with me?” I ask Bourbon, but out of nowhere, it’s Gatlin who answers me.
    “Nah, I’ve got work to do,” he walks up the middle of the driveway, waving his arms as previously promised, wearing an easy smile. “How you feeling today, after everything? Noticed you got in kinda late.”
    I open my truck door and move aside as Bourbon jumps in. “Yeah, I fell asleep at the gravesite. Never thought that’d be something I’d say.” I shake my head with a pained laugh. “Then I got caught up visiting with someone I used to know, who came looking for me.” I lift both brows for emphasis, and to hopefully add the unsaid—“unlike you.”
    I don’t necessarily think Gatlin owes me anything, especially babysitting my every move, but you know the saying “dance with the one who brought ya?” I’m pretty sure that applies to funerals as well— find the one you went with and…is now missing.
    If I stay and we’re going to work together, there has to be at least a modicum of trust…as close as I can get to that anyway. Leaving me to sleep in a cemetery doesn’t bode well for building that.
    He hears what I don’t say and his expression falls, a wounded shadow moving over his face. “I came back, Henley. I gave you the time you asked for, then started to worry when it seemed like too much time, and came back. You were gone. Where’d you go? ‘Cause I didn’t spot you anywhere in town. And believe me, I looked everywhere.”
    So he did go looking for me. For a brief second, I think maybe I can’t fault him for not panicking, or say, maybe calling in a missing person’s report…‘cause I have been known to up and disappear from town. But not since he’s known me. So while I feel marginally better about this particular issue, it still stings a bit.
    “I already told you, I was visiting with an