She looked at him like he was crazy. “Graham is in there. I’m not leaving him.”

She tried to push past him, but Ash wrapped his arms around her from behind, some reserve of strength coming from a deep place of fear. “You can’t.”

“Let me go, Ash,” she said, near hysterical, struggling in his grip.

More screams came from the school, a few people probably running out.

Ash wished it were different. He wished there was a way to go in and save Graham, save anyone in there who needed help, but he knew if they went back in, they wouldn’t be coming out. Kincaid was on whatever sick list Trevor had. So even as Kincaid started to sob and curse at him, he held tight, his bruised ribs screaming in protest, his eyes closed, and grief like he never experienced filling him.

“You can’t go,” he said in a whisper. “I won’t let you.”

Kincaid fought for a few seconds longer, but the sirens got closer, and her strength wore out. They both slumped back to the ground, Ash still bear-hugging her from behind. He wasn’t sure his arms would’ve released even if he’d wanted them to.

By the time the cops and paramedics were able to get into the building, Graham had stopped breathing. He was gone. Ash had drawn his friend back into the school to prove a point, and Graham had never walked out again. He’d given a killer an opening. And when he’d been asked if Graham was expendable, he hadn’t shouted his protest.

Graham was dead because of him.

Twenty-Five

Ash finished his story, his skin hot all over, his chest aching, and his eyes damp with tears. He stared at his hands, afraid to look at Kincaid. He already knew she was crying. He could hear the hitch in her breath, see the tears that had fallen onto her hands, which she’d braced on her thighs. “I’m so sorry.”

She was quiet for a few long moments, her breathing audible in the quiet apartment. “You’re sorry.”

He closed his eyes, hearing the knife edge in her voice. “I know that’s not enough. I don’t know what else to say. There aren’t words for this.”

She took a shaky inhale next to him, and her hands curled in her lap. “Ash, do you know how many times I’ve had to sit down with my friends and tell them that what happened at the shooting was not their fault?”

He pressed his lips together and ventured a glance over at her.

Her eyes were red and puffy but her gaze was resolute. “From day one, I have believed and still believe that no one in the school that night was responsible for deaths besides the two people who had the guns.” She licked her dry lips. “You are not responsible for Graham’s death. We could’ve been shot in the parking lot. Or stopping by the bathrooms. If you hadn’t been there, they would’ve shot me, too. You had no idea any of that was going to happen when you asked me to stay behind. Don’t put that on yourself.”