Page 38 of Give Me Perfect Love

I step out of the way when she shoots past me, leaving the gas container resting on the floor.

I go after her, needing to see what she’s doing or thinking. Kat goes straight into the living room and we both find Mills leaning against the front door with his arms crossed over his chest.

He looks up at us, his eyes jumping from me to his kid. Kat doesn’t care about either one of us being here right now. She doesn’t care about anything as she walks to the recliner that’s beside the ratty couch. Leaning over, she grabs ahold of something.

The sunshine drifting in the window flashes against the aluminum. She holds the bat forcefully. After all these years she still knew where he kept it.

Without warning, Kat swings the bat with all her might. Mills sidesteps toward the side wall of the living room and I instinctively jump back as tiny speckles of glass dust the room.

She moves from the TV to the coffee table, shattering it into pieces, this time yelling as she does it.

“You sick motherfucker!” She splits boards and wrecks drywall. “This is for every single bruise you put on me, mentally and physically.” She demolishes the old stereo, bursting ceramic and plastic. I watch her wreak havoc on the house, spilling past secrets as she does. Telling us things we didn’t know. Breaking my fucking heart one word at a time.

Mills doesn’t move but looks down, giving her privacy while being there for her at the same time. The windows are busted. Every piece of wood is broken and glass is everywhere as holes decorate the walls. Her breaths come out in rushes, her cheeks wet from tears. K drops the bat and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

“Give me the gas,” she says. I walk out of the hallway that was protecting me from flying particles and give her the tank.

“Y’all go out.”

“I’m not leaving you.” I slide my hand into my pocket, pull the lighter out, and toss it to her.

If she’s here, I’m here.

Her lips fold in as she tries to control the sadness leaking from her eyes. Everything inside of me wants to wrap her in my arms and hold on to her. But I don’t because I know that’s not what she wants. Kat doesn’t need to be coddled. That’s not who she is.

She nods and looks back at Mills.

“I’m with you, Kat,” he says, his voice filled with unshed emotion. A glimpse of lost time passes through her eyes as she looks at Mills. A flash ofI’m sorryon her pretty face.

Like it’s her fault Bethany made shitty choices.

This time he nods, not in acceptance of her ridiculous apology, but in agreement.

He’s sorry, too.

She sniffs and wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Her eyes dart around the room before landing on old mail. She pours gasoline onto the counter and walks over to the manila envelopes. Dropping the can, she flicks the lighter. Slowly, the ends of the paper start to burn. I hear the front door open and turn to see Mills holding the knob as he watches his kid.

She smirks and tosses the thing onto the counter. Blue-orange flames chase each other, and she looks back at me with raw emotions and the best one?

Satisfaction.

“Come on,” I say, lifting my hand to the side for her to grab it. She does and we follow Mills out of the house.

Smoke billows from its broken windows in a matter of minutes.

We watch it before moving the cars across the road, and even then we get out and stare at the burning house as it folds in on itself. I wrap my arm around Kat, and she leans into me, snaking her own arm across my waist.

She looks up at me, her cheeks rosy and tear-stained. Her lips are pink and swollen. Damp, dark eyelashes blink as strands of her hair blow in the winter wind.

She’s never looked more beautiful. Her expression is filled with gratitude and adoration. It knocks me off my feet. It’s a look I’ve never seen before.

Not from her.

Not from anyone.

Not like that.

“I love you,” she whispers, teardrops spilling. My heart faints.

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