Run (11 page)

       He was quiet for a moment, the silence filled with the sounds of night bugs and the occasional rustle of grass. “You remember last night, you asked me if I’d done this before?”

       I stilled. I’d asked for conversation. I didn’t think he’d go
there
. “Yeah?” Curiosity was scaling the walls, peeking over the top, trying to decide if the drop was worth the risk.

       There was no sound coming from the other end of the connection. I pulled the phone away from my ear. The call hadn’t dropped; he hadn’t hung up. I brought it back and waited. He could tell me as much or as little as he wanted. Or nothing at all. What he had to say wasn’t vital to my existence. All I wanted was his promise he’d let me fall, if that’s what I had to do.

       I wasn’t going to. Not tonight.

       “I met Molly when we were fourteen. There wasn’t anything wrong with either of us, not in the beginning. Working class families, enough food on the table, stable homes, that sort of shit. Good homes. Maybe mine more so than hers. She’d get in these moods sometimes, and she’d smoke a little weed, chain smoke half a pack of cigarettes, and not talk a lot for a few days. I’d let her lean on me. I’d make excuses for her, say I was strong enough for the both of us. If she got in trouble, I got her out of it; her parents loved me. By the time we were fifteen, she’d be downing most of a six-pack before the football game on Friday night. Started sneaking beers, rum at lunch, passed out drunk at parties on the weekends. Always said she’d stop, that she wanted to try for me, get better, and I believed her, because she would, for a while. It was…I don’t know what it was. She made me feel needed. Essential. And I got off on it. Kinda started to crave it, the way she craved her next high.

       “Sixteen, we broke up when I caught her snorting coke. Seventeen, she went to rehab, and I’m guessing when she got out her parents moved her to another school, ’cause I never saw her again. Made me take a good, hard look at myself and see what she’d done to me, and what I’d done to myself. Said I’d never let it happen again, and I’ve stayed true to that statement. Doesn’t mean I don’t slip up every so often.”

       What the hell was I supposed to say to that? It explained some of the things he did, though, the need to protect and care, the inherent sweetness in him, his frustration boiling over at certain points.

       “Well,” I said, picking my words with care, “I don’t have any drug problems, haven’t so much as smoked a joint in months. And aside from some ill-advised whiskey consumption, I don’t drink to excess. Can’t help you with the emotional and mental issues, though. Got those in spades.”

       He laughed, like I’d hoped he would, the sound trailing off, taking the surge of relief and happiness with it. “Gotta say, McKenna, you’re a piece of work some of the time, but you’re holding your shit together tighter than a lot of people would be in your situation.”

       The happy buzz was gone, skittering away like the insects in the grass. “Is that all I am right now? To you? Some broken woman you want to fix?”

       He laughed again, sharp and bitter, more a bark than anything else. “Fix? Fuckin’ A, could I fix you. You’re not fuckin’ broken. You’ve got cracks, a damn lot of them, but you’re not broken. Not all the way.” The harshness in his voice softened. “You’ve got shadows in your eyes, like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your back and you think you can’t put it down.”

       “And let me guess. You want to shoulder the burden for me.” I would give anything for this phone call to be over. It’s too soon to be having this sort of conversation. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to just hang up.

       “Nah. Just want to distract you every once in a while. Remind you it’s okay to smile. Possibly fuck you into oblivion on a regular basis.”

       “Whatever happened to not being a fuck toy?”

       “Changed my mind. You can toy with me as much as you like. Figure I win, too.”

       It felt good to laugh, on this day that had been torture for the last few years. “I’ll see what I can do.” Tempting, incredibly tempting, to ask if he wanted to see me tonight. To let our bodies tangle in a sweaty, complex mess, until we were Vishnu’s relative, multi-limbed, sprawled across bunched sheets. “I should probably get home.”

       The night insects filled the growing silence. Was he debating the same thing? Ask me to come to him? Feel our skin sticking together, chase the salt around our flesh? “You wanna come here tonight?”

       Would it make me weaker if I did? I’d been alone all day, trapped inside my head, even in the diner, dealing with customer after customer, Tommy ripping people’s heads off after the burger incident. And that keen edge of homesickness was cutting deeper than ever. “Yeah,” I whispered.

       That was that. That was all she wrote. We hung up, I got back in my car, and drove toward the bright lights of Austin.

       I got lost. I’d intended to backtrack to the diner and find my way from there, and it sort of worked. It took me a while to find the diner, and I stopped my car in the middle of the road, staring at it. The single light left on, in the hallway near the kitchen, so the morning shift wouldn’t have to completely stumble through the dark. The chair legs poking up, all fuzzy edged in the shadows.

       The lone figure, studying the front door from the corner.

       I didn’t stick around long enough to find out if it was Adam or someone else, trying to decide if it was worth it to bust through the window to find the safe in the office. I pulled out my phone and dialed Gwen.

       She answered on the third ring, her voice husky from interrupted sleep. “You better have a good reason for callin’ this late.”

       “I’m sorry, Gwen, but I drove past the diner just a few minutes ago and there was a guy staring at the front door like he thought if he looked at it long enough it would open with a magic word and a wave of his hand.”

       She barked out a laugh. “That’s all? Hon, we get people casin’ the place two, three times a week. It’s the neighborhood. Since no one’s broken in in ten years, I figure someone around there’s talking them out of it. I took the deposit to the bank tonight, anyway, so there’s no cash lyin’ around. Thanks for the heads up. Go on home now.”

       Feeling stupid, I drove the last few blocks to my apartment and found a spot near the building. I scanned the parking lot before I got out, squinting into the darkness. This place really did suck ass. Lights shot out, trash all over the place. A far cry from the tidy house I’d rented in Bend. Even the apartments I’d had through college and grad school hadn’t been this bad.

       Once inside my apartment, I grabbed a change of clothes and my toothbrush, stomach tight with anticipation. I hadn’t had an intentional sleepover since Scott. I wasn’t sure I’d remember the rules.

       I worried my upper lip the entire drive to Trevor’s place. Tonight was a shift, a step in a different direction. This wasn’t mutual usage anymore, if it ever had been.

       I dug out my lip balm and slicked it on, soothing the bite. Fingers tight on the handle of my bag, I climbed the steps. I’d been here a few nights ago. It was the same, and it was different.

       “I’m a total idiot,” I blurted when he opened the door.

       He reached for my bag. “I doubt that. Come on in. There’s a beer with your name on it.” He took my hand in his free one, drawing me inside, kicking the door shut behind us. “Go on and sit down.”

       Simple acceptance. Just go on in and sit on down, have a beer. Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away and wandered over to the couch, smiling when Trevor came in, holding a bottle of beer.

       He handed me the bottle and sat, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. I scooted closer and dropped my head onto his shoulder, suppressing a shiver of contentment. “Burned dinners, huh?” he asked.

       I took a sip of beer. “Yeah.”

Chapter Twelve

       I held my wrist up to the light. The bruising was mostly gone. I hadn’t seen Adam since the night in the bar. Given how big the city was, the chances were slim I’d run into him again.

       Though I’d somehow managed to run into him at all. How did he know I was here? Hell, did he even
know
? Maybe it was a coincidence. Happenstance. I hadn’t been in touch with anyone from Bend. I ignored the worried emails and phone calls from my parents, and those had mostly gone away after I’d broken down and called my mother on the way to St. Louis. At the time, I didn’t know how far I’d go, so it seemed safe.

       I probably ought to call her again, or send an email. And I will. After work.

       I hurried around and made sure all the windows were closed, guaranteeing a sauna when I got off shift this evening. Grabbing my purse, I ran out the door and down the steps to the parking lot, eyes on my car.

       Light fractured and glinted in the sun, and I squinted against it, slowing as I drew closer. The glittering shards were what was left of my driver’s side window. There was more on the seat, jagged pieces sticking out of the frame, waiting for me to catch my skin on them.

       On autopilot, I pulled out my phone and called Gwen. She answered on the second ring. “Little’s Place, what can I do for you?”

       “It’s Ken. Someone broke into my car and there’s glass all over the seat. I need to take care of this before I can come in.” That’s a joke. Take care of it how? With Monopoly money? I’d managed to scrape together a couple hundred toward a safer, cleaner apartment, but even if I used that, I doubted it’d be enough to get the glass fixed.

       “Well, crap, hon. Get here as quick as you can. Celia’s down for the night; some sort of bug. Need anything?”

       
A unicorn and a fluffy kitten to cuddle
. “Any good body shops that won’t cost me my firstborn?”

       Gwen snorted. “Gimme a few minutes. I think Tommy’s brother’s got a shop out your way. And when you get in,” she added, “we’re talkin’ about that neighborhood of yours.”

       Great.

       We hung up, and I leaned against the hood of the car, staring at my phone. Phone calls were excellent time killers. I could call my mother now. Homesickness crowded in, the need to hear the voice of someone who cared about me threatening to break me. The nails on my fisted hand dug into my palm. I should leave the line free, for Tommy’s brother.

       I scrolled through my contacts, thumb hovering over my parent’s number. Mom hadn’t understood why I couldn’t just redouble my therapy efforts.
I
hadn’t understood. There was this invisible force shoving me from behind, muttering that I needed to get out get out
get out,
and I’d ignored it. Until the night of the anniversary, the night Adam had confronted me, and I listened and got out.

       The phone rang in my hand, the number on the readout unfamiliar. A man with a slurry Southern drawl, almost too thick to understand, said he was Tommy’s brother Calvin and he gave me directions to his body shop. “Can’t say how quick it’ll be fixed, but one of the boys can give you a lift to Gwen’s after you drop off the car.”

       I found an old sweatshirt in the trunk of my car and wrapped it around my hand, brushing the glass from the seat before spreading the sweatshirt out. Calvin’s shop was less than a mile from my craptastic apartment. He looked like Tommy, only heavier, his face round and shining with sweat from the midday heat.

       He eyed the window. “A day. Minimum. I don’t have the glass available, and I doubt my supplier will be able to come up with it before the end of today.” The price he named had me flinching, but more than I needed a place to sleep, I needed the damn car. I couldn’t get to work without the car.

       My phone rang at one point in our conversation, and before I silenced it I caught Trevor’s name on the read out. Probably wanted to see what I was up to this evening. We hadn’t reached the point where we shared schedules, so he had no idea I was working tonight.

       Calvin waved over one of his guys. “Get her to Gwen’s, will ya?” We headed for a battered two door as a man stepped out of his truck. My lungs seized. Adam. Adam was in the parking lot. Adam was
less than a mile
from my apartment. Adam could look over here any moment and see me. I ducked my head and stared at my feet like they were the most interesting things in the world, and I didn’t look up until we’d passed my apartment.

       Pedestrians shuffled along the sidewalk as my chauffeur let me off in front of the diner. I scanned the street for Adam’s face, afraid to take another step. Black spots swam in front of my eyes and I sucked in a breath, blew it out, the spots floating away. He hadn’t seen me. He hadn’t followed me. I was okay for now.

       I was completely, utterly screwed. I couldn’t hide from him forever.

       I walked into a partially empty diner. The dinner rush hadn’t kicked in yet, and Gwen beckoned me over while she fiddled with the cash register. “You get yourself settled up?”

       Normality hovered just out of reach. I kept stretching toward it anyway, because if I didn’t, there would be questions I didn’t want to answer. I swallowed hard. “Calvin’s got to order the window from his supplier. He might have it finished by tomorrow evening. If I’m lucky.” I took the tub of silverware Seth brought out and climbed onto a stool.

       Gwen regarded me with a cool, level gaze. “It’s not my place to tell my employees what they should and should not do with their lives. I keep my mouth shut, as long as it doesn’t affect their ability to do their jobs. I’m making an exception for you.”

       She barreled on before I could roll my eyes. “Personal safety, Kenna. The block you’re on is one of the worst in the city. Frankly, I’m surprised nothing’s happened before now.” I wisely kept my mouth shut about the gunfire from the other night. “You need an advance to find a better place to live, you’ve got it.”

       I was hot, sticky with sweat, and I had to pony up several hundred dollars I couldn’t spare to fix my damn car. My student’s brother had found me
here
, in the one place I’d been dead certain no one would look. Her concern quickly tipped me over the edge into irritation. “My apartment is fine. It’s on the second floor. I sweat through the night rather than have the windows open. I don’t keep anything in my car, not even jumper cables. It’s all I can afford right now, and once I have enough for a deposit, I’ll find someplace safer.” I slid off the stool and grabbed the tub, carrying it to a nearby table.