Page 105 of Whiskey Kisses

“Neither did I,” I admit.But that’s not quite true, is it?Cole and Danny offed our father, so I should’ve known he was capable of anything.

I never did tell Maribelle about that, and I don’t know that I ever will.

“I started looking through his texts. No other girls, but there were all these creepy conversations with DJ, talking about burning the distillery to the ground and finding you and gutting you like a fish. All kinds of sick shit.”

Tears run down the sides of my cheek, dripping onto the pillow. “He used to stalk me.”

“I don’t know that he ever really stopped,” she says, wiping her own tears. “He’s been obsessed with you for all this time, and I’d had no idea.”

“What made you text me today?” I whisper. “How’d you know he was gonna go to the parade?”

“Because he came back inside and said he had to go. When I asked where, he said he was meeting someone downtown,” she says. “I got this really bad feeling, and something told me I needed to warn you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I ask, confused. The last message I got was her asking if I was at the parade. Not that it mattered. Cole attacked me seconds later.

“What d’you mean?” She frowns, shaking her head. “I told you I thought he might be looking for you.”

Maybe her message came too late, then. We’re quiet for a long, long time. I don’t know what to say, and even if I did, I’m just so damn tired. Eventually Maribelle gets up, rubbing her lower back. “I gotta go. Blythe and Dylan are downstairs, waiting for me.”

“All right,” I say on a sleepy exhale.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just … I’m sorry this happened,” she says, her voice thick. “I need you to know that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, and I mean it.

“Even so,” she says, turning to go.

“What are you going to do now?” I ask. “Are you going to stay with Dylan?”

She pauses at the door, leveling a long look at me over her shoulder. “Of course I am, Evie. That’ll never change.”

“Good Lord,any deeper and this would’ve been a whole ‘nother situation altogether,” my home nurse, Jamila, clucks as she checks my bandages. “God was watching over you!”

I love Nurse Jamila, but after two long days in the hospital and now another couple at home, if I hear one more time how lucky I am, I might just stab someone myself.All right, all right, that’s not funny.Iamlucky to be alive. I suffered several gashes to my right forearm, which required sutures, and a stab wound to my abdomen which almost—but didn’t—penetrate my peritoneum. Good thing, because that’s the membrane inside my abdomen that covers my organs and had Cole’s knife gone any further, I could’ve lost part of my small intestines. And that would’ve been just the beginning of my issues.

I didn’t need surgery, thankfully, so my hospital stay was brief. Normally they don’t even keep people overnight for injuries as “minor” as mine, but the wound to my abdomen was in a tricky place, so they kept under observation a little longer.

Jamila brushes by a sensitive spot and I wince, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, honey,” she murmurs, patting my arm. “You want some more acetaminophen before I head out?”

“That the best we can do?” I ask with a pleading smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not due for your next dose of the good stuff for another hour.”

“Tylenol it is, then.” I give her a tight smile. “Thanks.”

“Okay. Be right back.” She disappears out into the hallway, leaving behind a faint trail of honeysuckle.

Tristan yawns loudly from the loveseat and puts down his latest origami project. So far, he’s made me flowers, hearts, and an orange cat named Poppy. Judging by the blue-gray paper he’s folding, he might be working on Juniper. “How ya feeling, Evie Knievel?”

“Tired. Sore.” I sigh irritably. “Like I got stabbed. How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy. Itchy.” He scratches at his arm, which is also bandaged. “Like I got stabbed.”

Besides a mess of cuts and bruises, Tristan sustained a couple of lacerations from Cole’s switchblade when they were rolling around the ground fighting. That hadn’t stopped him from gaining control of the knife and plunging it into Cole’s neck, though. He was questioned extensively by the cops about this after being treated at the hospital, but there were so many witnesses around at the time of Cole’s attack that ultimately, he was let go.

“You should get some fresh air,” I encourage, knowing how hard it is for him to sit still. I’m nottotallybedridden, but I’ve had to take it easy for the past few days and origami aside, he’s got to be bored out of his mind. “Bria said she and Lucky were taking Liam for ice cream. Why don’t you go? You love Leopold’s.”

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