The disappointment in Jim’s eyes with the case. The shock followed by rage when he got the call from HR. If we hadn’t been in his office surrounded by other staff, I’m sure he would have done what Kipley got the pleasure to do, but worse.
How the fuck did everything go so wrong, so fast?
Another wave of nausea has me rolling back to my side, ready to yack all over my floor. “Ughhh…” I groan, pulling myself up.
The banging starts again, like drumsticks beating on my brain. “Go away!” I yell, dragging my sore body to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of beer, still half full, and chug it. “Hair of the dog,” I grumble, throwing the empty bottle into the sink, hearing it shatter.
Bang, bang, bang. “I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door, Dent!”
Fuck.
Kipley.
I’m not sure I’m in the best shape to take another beating. Even though I deserve more than what he dished out last night. I snag a beer from the fridge and twist the top off, taking a hefty swig as I drag myself to my door. More banging echoes throughout my condo, and I throw the door open. “Come to finish me off?”
“Fuck you.” Kipley pushes past me, and I almost fall backwards. “Hannah!” he calls out. He aims his scathing anger back to me. “Where is she? Hannah!” he shouts again toward my bedroom.
“She isn’t here.” I walk back to my living room, needing to sit down.
“Bullshit. Hannah! Get the fuck out here now!” He doesn’t take my word and storms down the hallway to my bedroom, shoving the door open and searching my room. A minute later, he comes out.
“Told you.”
“Where is she?”
“How the hell should I know? I haven’t seen her since you kicked my ass and told me to leave your family alone.” I need to shut my anger down. I don’t have the right to play the victim. I deserved what I got. “Just call her phone. I’m sure she’ll answer for you.”
“You don’t think we’ve done that? Her phone’s off.”
I fall onto my couch, grunting in pain. “And you think she came here? After I sexually assaulted her and all?”
“You motherfucker.”
I launch myself up, ignoring the stabbing in my side and the nausea, and get in his face. But when I stand there, face to face with my best friend, I stand down. “Yeah. I am a motherfucker.” My chest sinks, and I wait for him to strike.
Silence washes over us for a moment until he speaks. “Why, man? Why my sister?” There’s so much hurt and betrayal in his tone, it feels like he’s beating me all over again. I’d actually take another blow if it took away the betrayal in his eyes. Instead, I stare back at twenty-four years of friendship. The first kid to befriend me in kindergarten by sharing his bag of Doritos. My first sleepover where his mom made me my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich and allowed us to cook s’mores in the house and watch The Karate Kid over and over. The boy who stood by me when my father threatened to kick my ass for taking lunch money when I hadn’t eaten in almost two days. The guy who spent endless nights helping me study my way through my first batch of law school after I chose to let go of a pipe dream. A friend who stood by me through thick and thin, never questioning me or my decisions.
Feeling defeated all over again, I throw myself back on my couch, using my hands to cup my wounded face. “Why your sister?” I ask. Images of her pouty lips when she’s frustrated and the passion in her eyes that can set a room on fire filter through my mind. “Because as much as I tried to stay away, I couldn’t. I fought it. I knew she was off limits. But her spark for life and enigmatic spirit found its way into my heart.”
The floodgates of truth crack, and I start pouring out confessions in waves. “I treaded lightly with her. She wasn’t just a girl. She was special. She suddenly became this bright color in my dull world. A warmth that fed my soul and made me feel something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.” I pull my eyes from my hands to find his, hoping he understands. “She made me feel complete in a way I’ve never felt before. What it truly meant to be so consumed by someone, it almost hurt. And eventually, I stopped fighting it. I craved her light. Her warmth. The embrace of someone who truly saw me for me. She did that for me.” I have to break contact. It hurts too much to express how much I love her. I never actually got the chance to tell her, and now I’ve lost her. “I fell in love with her,” I whisper, not sure whether I’m saying it to him or myself.