Laurie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimaced, and tipped his head up to look at me, his curls hanging limp around his temples and sticking to his damp skin.
"Don't apologize," he rasped, and then cleared his throat. "I'd never heard the sound of…it took me by surprise. But I don't care that you killed him. I'm glad you killed him. He would've killed me."
A tiny flicker of warmth I hadn't known I could feel anymore bloomed in my chest. He didn't sound afraid, and he didn't sound disgusted.
He sounded fierce. Like he would've been more than willing to break that fucker's neck himself if he'd had the strength in his hands to do it.
He hadn't, though, and he was about two minutes away from collapsing, if I had to guess. I'd deal with that next, but first things first.
"Go home," I told him. "Can you make it on your own?"
Laurie stared at me. "You mean unlike last time? You — that was you who took me home the other night, right? What were you doing here tonight?"
