Page 37 of Notorious

“Will you at least try to allow me to help, anyway?”

While part of me wants to keep fighting him, I relent again. “I’ll try.”

CHAPTER 13

Johnny

Kurt gives me a tour through the gleaming kitchen filled with top-of-the-line appliances and the large open space that serves as a living room and dining area, and then we go up to the third story.

“This is mine,” he says, gesturing toward one room, “and this is the guest bedroom. Sorry it’s kind of cluttered; I use it as an office when I work from home.” There’s a large computer desk in front of a window and a full-size bed in the corner, plus an easel and art supplies neatly stacked on a table. “I hope you’ll be comfortable in here.”

“I ain’t gonna kick you out of your office.”

He puts a hand on his hip, and I receive his message loud and clear. “Let’s get our bags,” he says.

“Do you have everything you need?” Kurt asks once we’re upstairs again and I’m rolling my tiny suitcase into the guest bedroom. “Clothes, toiletries?”

I’m wearing my favorite jeans. I was planning on being buried in them. I didn’t bring much else—a few things for while I was in Vegas, along with workout wear.

I shrug. “I’ll get by.”

He huffs. “Don’t want you just ‘getting by’ when I can do something about it. After we have a bite to eat, let’s go shopping.”

“Hate shopping.”

“What about a place like Boot Barn?”

I shrug reluctantly, because he’s right that I need more than I’m standing up in, and I’m beat down by his kindness. “Yeah, okay. Fine. Dress me up. But if you call me Cinderella, we may have to have words.”

Kurt smiles. “I’m good with being your fairy godfather.” He gestures. “Feel free to use the closet,” he says, “and there’s a laundry bin in the corner.”

“Hate to be a burden, but I gotta return my tux.” I open my bag, and an envelope slips to the floor.

“Of course we can return your tux.” He looks at the envelope addressed to Mama. “Was that meant to go to her … after?”

I nod.

“Can I have it?” He holds out his hand.

I don’t really want to give it to him, but I’m also not sure I should have it on me. I stare at it for a moment, pick it up, and shove it at him. “What are y’all gonna do with my gun?”

“For now? Lock it up. I have a few locking cabinets in the garage. Later, when you’re stable, we can decide if you want to sell it or whatever.”

“Not a fan of being without it.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Big, strong man like you can protect yourself without it, and you’ve got to be kidding if you think I’m gonna let you have a weapon.” He presses his lips together and shakes his head. Without another word, he leaves me, taking the plastic laundry bag with my gun in it and heading back down the stairs.

A few minutes later, he reappears. “Don’t go looking for it.”

I sigh, knowing when I’m beat. I mean, sure, I could ransack his house for the keys, but I don’t have the energy for it—and it’s starting to dawn on me that I might be depressed.

Maybe that should have been obvious, but I’m in territory so foreign I can barely describe it. How do I feel? Numb, yes. Hopeless, yes. Listless, sometimes. Confused, often. But I ain’t never been depressed before—unless I’ve been that way for so long I don’t know any different.

Well, damn.

I thought I was just pissed and hopeless on account of my mama. But maybe I’m pissed and hopeless for myself.

Because shouldn’t I be over-the-moon happy? My mama’s going to get help. I don’t know how Kurt’s going to make that happen, but I’m starting to believe him when he says he will. I’ve got a safe place to stay, and Kurt’s got plans to fix all sorts of things.

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