Bab 43: Chapter 43

But that’s over now. McBane is gone, gone, I’m still not quite comprehending that fact. With Delia’s kit in my hands, I stand and look around the small room—at the clean sheets that cover the bloodstains, the cot that now holds memories of Coby. I can almost see him lying beneath that afghan, naked and warm and cuddling up to me. This is hisroom now, there’s no more hate in here, no more pain. This is where he belongs, in here, with me.

With me.

I take the basket out into the kitchen, where Delia’s set up a makeshift infirmary along the counter by the sink. Maeve stands in front of the stove, boiling rags in one pot of water and stirring another pot of soup, which she dishes out to whoever holds up a bowl.