Page 120 of Notorious

Kurt has a few locking cabinets—all shiny gray lacquer—but it only takes two attempts before I get a key to work in one. I open it, but it’s full of paperwork. I lock it back up and try the next.

Pay dirt. Inside is not only my derringer, but everything else Kurt has deemed dangerous: razors, a Swiss Army knife, medications. My note to Mama.

Still trembling, I pull the gun from its holster and check the ammunition. It’s loaded.

Kurt didn’t take out the bullets. Maybe he didn’t know how.

Then I slide my ass down to the floor, staring at the gun, feeling its weight in my hands.

I hold it to my temple. The metal is cool against my skin.

They say your life flashes in front of your eyes when you’re about to die, but all I see is Kurt’s face.

He cares about me enough to lock up all this shit that I could use to hurt myself.

He took me to see my mama and May Ella. He got my mama the surgery she needed and May Ella a chance at a job doing the thing she was born to do.

He got me a job working with horses. He got me the sweetest dog in the world.

He’s paid for all my care.

He stood by me through losing the election and never blamed me.

He claimed me, sounding proud and happy.

He watches me without complaint when I’m sad, when I can’t give him back anything at all.

He’s let me be myself—all the parts of me, even the ugly ones that I don’t want to show anyone else.

I gently place the gun down by my hip. Then I put my face in my hands and start sobbing. Ugly sobbing. Chest heaving, inhuman noises coming out of my mouth.

I’d thought I’d been low before, but this is it. A time when even though I have everything—love, because yes, I damn well love Kurt, and despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, he seems to love me; a mother on the way to good health; a safe place to live; a good job—I still can’t function.

“Fuck, damn,” I hiss. I try to wipe away the tears, but they just keep coming, and I curl up next to the wall. I manage to pull out my phone, because I promised Kurt I’d call him if I was like this. Before I can place a call, though, the door from the house opens, and Kurt races in.

I go stock-still, like he’s ensnared me in the net of his panicked gaze. I’m caught and unable to move.

He flies over to me. “Johnny! What’s wrong? What are you doing? Are you hurt?” He shoves the gun away with his foot, metal scraping along the floor, and pulls me to him.

I put my head on his shoulder and sob.

“Hey,” he says huskily. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you. We’ll fix it. You can make it through. I’ll do whatever you need. We can solve it together.”

“I’m in love with you,” I blurt. “I goddamn love you.”

Kurt stills, his arms around me. Then he squeezes me tighter. “I’m in love with you, too. I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a damn mess.”

“You can be a mess with me,” he whispers. “I can take it. The only thing I couldn’t take is you not being here.”

He leans back, and I kiss him. It’s a messy kiss—snotty, full of tears, with zero finesse. But it’s the best kiss of my life.

I love him.

And I know I’m strong.

I’ve faced my demons, and they keep coming back. But I can fight this fight.

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