Page 73 of Things We Burn

Before was what Kane said.

Would they believe him?

Did I believe him?

Would it matter in a court of law?

I had to swallow bile once I realized what that meant for Kane.

My feet were leaden as I tried to step toward him. And my mouth was dry, unable to find words.

Kane had been the one to call the police. Once he’d stopped hitting Gerald. Once the man’s handsome face was no longer recognizable and Kane’s knuckles were crimson. He’d ripped his stare from mine, got his phone from his pocket then called them, voice even, calm. Blood dripped from his hands as he held the phone to his ear.

He dropped the phone beside him once the call was made. Still, I couldn’t move. I was cemented in place, horrified at my body’s response, the freezing. Somewhere, deep down, I was screaming at myself to move, to hug Kane, to tell him I loved him, to do something. But I didn’t. I just stayed there. Useless.

And then the police crashed in. It was only mere minutes after calling them. Who knew if they were in the area or it was a low crime day. Maybe it was luck. If you could call it that.

Once they took statements, the police didn’t look at Gerald with much sympathy, nor did they look happy about putting Kane in cuffs.

But their hands were tied. It wasn’t self-defense, nor was Kane ‘saving me’ from any kind of assault. It was revenge, pure and simple.

It was attempted murder, someone said, somewhere.

I told them about the knife, that Kane had been stabbed. That must’ve meant something.

I tried to hold on to all the details, hold on to my trademark calm. This is when it was needed most. But my kitchen was a mess. There was blood splatter on the floor. It was cluttered with strangers, officers, paramedics. A lot of them. I didn’t know if it was because of the restaurant or Kane’s fame. It didn’t matter.

The man I loved was getting cuffed and hauled away.

Gerald had already been taken away by paramedics. Not in a body bag.

Kane hadn’t killed him.

That was good.

Not because I wanted Gerald alive—a cold part of me would’ve liked to see him dead—but because I didn’t want that piece of shit to turn Kane into a murderer.

“Chef,” Kane’s voice brought me back to the moment.

I’d just been standing there, numbly watching them put shackles on Kane. Powerless. I was powerless there. Because of Gerald.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he said, eyes on me. “You’re gonna be okay. Call my brother. I love you.”

“I love you,” was all I could croak back.

Then he was hauled off.

Standing in my kitchen, I realized my life had just imploded.

Kane had said to call his brother.

I wanted to. I so dearly wanted to. Knox, although terrifying, had a strong presence, like he could take care of anything. Thesame demeanor Kane had. Like if there was a meteor headed toward Earth, somehow, they’d take care of it.

A meteor had already hurtled into my life, leaving nothing but rubble. And I had no way to contact Knox.

Ihad to take care of it. Had to take care of Kane.

That ripped me out of the hideous mental coma I’d been in since Gerald stepped into my kitchen.

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