Saved at Sunrise

like a four-letter word. “Her friend who obviously likes to fight,
     if his black eye is any indication.”
    Della tensed, ready to tell him that Steve got that black eye standing up for her.
     Something she suddenly realized that Lee had never done. Not even with his parents.
    “Actually,” Steve spoke up again, “we were just wrestling around in bed and Della
     got me in the eye with her elbow.”
    Lee’s shoulders tightened and all Della could think was, Go Steve.
    Mei looked up at Lee and seemed to see his reaction. A tightness pulled at the girl’s
     brow as she glanced back at Della. Della recognized that tightness as plain ol’ jealousy.
     She’d felt it tug at her own brow every time she thought of Lee with someone else.
     Oddly, now Della felt … What did she feel? Angry. Hurt. Sad. But she didn’t feel jealous.
     That meant something, Della knew that, but now wasn’t the time to contemplate it.
    “We should…” Her words got hung up when she met Lee’s eyes again. The sad feeling
     swelled in her chest and she realized a better name for that emotion. Grief. She had
     loved Lee. Loved him with everything she had. And she’d given him her all—her heart,
     her body, her mind. Now she’d lost him. And now she grieved for what used to be.
    “Go. We should go,” Steve finished for her. “I already took care of the bill.” Steve
     let go of her waist and held out his hand to Lee. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
    Lee didn’t take it. Which was super-awkward and not like Lee. He normally wasn’t rude.
     Or was he? Had she missed that about him, too? Della nodded at the couple and when
     Steve’s arm found its way back around her she let him guide her away.
    They left the restaurant and it took a few seconds of the cold fall air hitting her
     face to realize she was still holding onto Steve. Holding onto him as if the ship
     of her life had been capsized. As if he was the only thing floating in the stormy
     waters to cling to.
    The sense of weakness, feelings she could easily drown in, washed over her and sparked
     another flicker of anger. A big one this time.
    She pulled away. Confusion bounced around her gut. The grief clung to her heart as
     tightly as she’d clung to Steve just a few minutes ago, but then the anger she’d experienced
     earlier returned. She opened herself up to that emotion. Anger she could handle, anger
     she could run with. So she let it roll around her, washing away the other emotions
     that made her feel weak and vulnerable.
    She looked at Steve, who appeared happy, just the opposite of how she felt. “You followed
     me,” she accused him.
    The slight smile in his eyes dimmed. “I was obeying orders,” he said. “We were told
     to stay together at all times.”
    “Damn it! I don’t give a shit about orders. I don’t like to be followed.” A heaviness
     filled her chest and she recognized it as guilt. Guilt for …
    “Then don’t run away again,” he said matter-of-factly and started walking to the back
     of the restaurant.
    Damn it. Guilt for acting like an idiot with the person who’d just saved her.
    She caught up with him. “I’m not finished talking!” she seethed.
    He came to a quick halt and swung around. “But I’m finished listening. You can get
     mad all you want. I was trying to help.” He took off again.
    “I said I wasn’t finished!” She flashed forward and shot in front of him, putting
     a hand out to stop him. When her hand met his warm chest, it reminded her just how
     cold she was and she pulled it away. She glanced up at him, he looked about ready
     to give her hell, but she spoke first.
    “Thank you!” she growled.
    His mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. No doubt he was shocked
     at her declaration. And damn it, but she knew how he felt. She hadn’t meant to say
     that—not that he didn’t deserve to hear it, he did, but …
    “Wow.” He finally spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone express gratitude in
     such a pissed off, angry tone.”
    “That’s because I am angry. I’m furious. You followed me. Then you … you kissed me,
     with tongue, in front of everyone.”
    His brown eyes lit up with a smile again. He leaned in a little closer. His warm breath
     stirred against her forehead. “And it was really good, wasn’t it?”
    She glared at him and took a step back.
    “Okay, if it’s not for the kiss, what are you thanking me for?” he asked, sounding
     puzzled