“Kat?” I call out her name, attempting to close the door quietly behind me although it creaks.
“In here,” her somber voice calls out and I’m given a fraction of a second to hear relief until I hear her crying.
Kicking the door closed, I bypass the broken glass from the destroyed frame and head to the kitchen to find Kat covering her face at the sink. The water’s running and when she peeks up at me, her eyes are swollen from crying and her reddened cheeks are tearstained.
“You okay?” Every step I take is careful as I approach her. In satin pink pajamas and without an ounce of makeup on, she’s both gorgeous and utterly raw. A primitive side of me wants to console her; another side craves to comfort her in the way I know she needs.
She sniffles and turns off the water, giving me her back as she reaches for the kitchen towel to pat her face dry.
Tossing the towel down she gives me a careless shrug as if she hasn’t lost all composure.
“What happened to the picture?”
“I threw it,” she admits with feigned strength and then her composure seems to diminish, leading her to confide in me.
“He yelled at me. Like I’m the reason his father died? He just … he’s losing it and I can’t help him.”
As tears well in her eyes, she grips the counter to hold her balance. “I loved his dad too. What can I do? I don’t know what to do.”
She loses it, and as she covers her face, turning away from me, I casually approach her. She’s wounded and I know the feeling. Cill’s father was a second father to me.
His death was sudden and I know Cill’s not taking it well.
None of us are.
But he shouldn’t yell at her. “He’s just angry right now, but he loves you.”
“I’m angry too,” she sobs. She’s anything but angry. She’s broken. Both of them, my two best friends, are nothing like what they used to be.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, and when I reach out to her, she leans into my touch. At first it’s only slightly, but as the grief takes over, she falls into me.
I’m grateful to hold her, to give her this. Because I’m struggling too.
I feel us all falling apart and I don’t know how to make it right.
When I kiss the top of her head and whisper into her hair it’s going to be all right and that he loves her, I mean it, and I have to stop myself from telling her I love her too … because at this moment, I know I mean it just the same.
Present time
* * *
“I’m not here to fight you.” That’s the first thing I have to say to Cill, even if it’s not quite true. Hell, maybe we are here, in the back room of Nello’s, next to The Ruin, to fight. Maybe we’re here to have it out. I’d rather have him punch me than some asshole across from the gas station. I won’t send him to jail.
My body’s still ringing from earlier today in Kat’s kitchen, even after the nearly two hours of silent driving to get here. I think we all needed a moment of quiet and time to think. But two hours wasn’t enough. I don’t know that any amount of time will prepare me for this.
The dim lights in the back room only make Cill’s bruised cheek look worse. He’ll get over it, just like I will.
My shoulders straighten with barely contained anger as I take in a heavy breath. Although I know the anger isn’t justified, it’s still there.
I never should have touched Kat, but inside all I can think is that he never should have left us. All of it was fucked.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I tell him again. “What happened between Kat and me is long over.” As I say the words, my heart is in agony. It feels like this is it for all three of us.
I fell in love with Kat, I fell hard for her and I only wanted to love her, because I knew CIll couldn’t. It wasn’t supposed to happen like it did. I never stopped loving her, though. Just like I never stopped wanting to be the friend Cill needed either.
We were both missing him. Both broken … hell, all three of us were.
Glancing over at Kat, sitting beside Cill in the circular booth and across from me, I know she’d choose him ten out of ten times. I’m the piece that has to go for them to be together now and it’s my fault. I know that, but I can’t stand that it has to happen.
Clearing my throat, I face Cill head-on, doing what needs to be done. “You need to know what happened with the club, even if you hate me right now. I want to tell you everything I know.”