Page 38 of That Girl is Trouble

“I’ll call her in the morning. You two good?” she asks, eyeing Brick’s torn-up knuckles and then mine. “Need any fixing?”

Kat’s sitting on the porch, her back against the brick of the house, a cloud of smoke billowing above her from the joint hanging from her mouth.

“I’m good,” I say quietly, taking a kick to my stomach when she finally locks eyes with me. Fuck. The look.

Bex clears her throat, wrapping her arms around her middle to warm herself. Brick slings an arm over her bare, tattooed shoulders and pulls her tighter. Her usual blond hair is streaked with a deep red. The same colour that still decorates my hands.

“She’s… quiet,” Bex says. “Been sitting out here for a couple hours. I finally convinced her to put a damn coat on, but she wouldn’t come in. Think she’s been waiting for you.”

I give her a nod and stuff my hands into my pockets. Once Bex and Brick pass me and head inside, I make my way up the steps. Kat’s cheeks are splotched red, her eyes a little puffy, her shoulders slumped. She takes a long drag from her pinner and blows out a cloud of white.

Her focus drops from my face to the blood on my hands, and she lets out a deep sigh. “What did you do?”

“I handled it.”

“How?”

“You know how.” I drop to the concrete beside her. The cold brick digging into my back sends even more ice into my veins.

Kat takes another drag before ashing into the small patch of snow that’s accumulated beside her. She eyes my hands. “You’re hurt.”

“It’ll heal.”

Head down, she scoots closer, brushing her shoulder against mine before taking my bloody hand into her cold ones. She examines my fingers, my tattered knuckles. The bone of one feels too big and a little out of place. Broken, I’d guess, given the throb that set in once the adrenaline wore off. “It’s not all yours. The blood.”

“No.”

“Did you…?” There’s that look again. The haunted eyes. Fix this? Make it better? Make them hurt?

“Yeah, Kitty. I made them pay. It wasn’t quick.”

Dropping my hand, she looks away, swallowing hard. “Is… Triss. Is she—”

“She’s alive. Graves took her home a while ago.”

She lets out a long, shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. We sit quietly as she gathers herself, but the silence that sits between us doesn’t feel heavy or wrong. It’s calming. And the squirming Kat usually does in the quiet is all but non-existent. Leaning into me, she rests her head on my shoulder.

And I let her. My ass is numb from the cold, my fingers now as icy as hers, but I sit with her. I let her cry. I let her twine her hand with mine.

“I should get you back,” I say after a long while. “Come on.” I untangle my fingers from hers and push up. Quickly, I slip into the house to grab Brick’s keys.

Kat shuffles along behind me down the driveway. She’s quiet as I open the Jeep door and motion her inside. I round the truck, hop into the driver’s side, and fire up the engine before sliding my attention to the girl beside me.

Quiet. Eyes unfocused. A tremble in her shoulders every time she takes a breath.

“Put your seat belt on.”

It’s like she doesn’t hear me. She only stares ahead. With a sigh, I reach over her and grab the belt. When it clicks into place, she grabs my hand and squeezes it, her cold fingers burning into my skin.

“He looked scared, didn’t he?” she asks me.

I grip her hand tighter in mine as I back up the Jeep and start the drive out.

“I didn’t… Nothing scares Jesse. Nothing. You know? He’s… fearless. But he looked scared, don’t you think?” Her last words come out as a sob.

My chest squeezes at her anguish, at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks when I take my eyes off the road.

“Dyin’ is scary, Kat. Even the bravest of men will tremble at death’s feet.” I focus back on the road, keeping her hand firmly in mine as I make a turn towards the east side of South Bay.

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