Page 66 of Reviving Kendall

“Do you live here ma’am?” he asks.

“Yessir,” I answer.

He flips out his notebook, “Who lives here with you?”

A pang shoots through my heart, “It’s just me now. My grandpa passed away in January.”

Looking from me and Goose to the others standing off to the side, his face turns stern, but he doesn’t say anything, “Can you tell me what happened here tonight?”

I recall everything that happened, and at the very last of it, the stranger on the floor starts groaning and moving around. He looks like a biker, but like a biker who just got off a two-week binge of meth. His jeans and shirt are dirty, and his facial hair looks like a dog with the mange. The officers move in and have him in handcuffs before he’s fully awake. When they lift him and walk by us, he snarls down at me through a bloody face, “I’ll be seeing you girl. They know you got money from the old man dying. That’s your mama’s money girl, so you better be prepared to hand it over.”

“Let’s go,” the second officer tells him as he shoves him out the door.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I listen to the officer explain that they’ll be leaving an empty patrol car out front just in case, but he wouldn’t recommend I stay here tonight because of the broken window the guy used to get in.

“She won’t be here tonight,” Goose tells him with his eyes trying to focus. “We have a spare room and my parents said it’s ok if she crashes at my house for now.”

At the word parents, the cop nods and some of the sternness drops from his face, “Good, good. I still want the both of you checked out by the EMT outside, and I’ll need you to come in tomorrow to sign a statement if you’re wanting to press charges.”

We follow him out to the waiting ambulance, where they tell us that Goose has a mild concussion and shouldn’t be allowed to sleep for the next few hours. The good news is that his hand is only banged up. There’s nothing broken, which is surprising with how hard he was beating that guy into the floor. My throat is severely bruised, but they said I should be back to normal in about a week or so.

After all of the people leave, Lucas is the first to pull me away from Goose, “Goddamn it baby. You scared the shit out of me. I don’t want to ever let you out of my sight again.”

Teagan hugs me from behind, “What he just said.”

“You guys do realize that Goose took the worst of it right?” I ask them.

“Goose can handle his own,” Mav says stepping closer and bending down to examine the marks on my neck in the little bit of light spilling out the front door. A look of pure fury crosses his face before he masks it.

“I’m sorry man,” Goose apologizes as he catches the same thing I saw. “I fucking tried. It was pitch black and he hit me before I even saw him.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him staring pointedly at Mav, who finally takes the hint and agrees with me.

“Come on. Let’s find something to put across the window,” Mav says. “Pack yourself a couple of days’ worth of clothes, Kendall.”

I want to argue and say I’ll be fine, but tonight scared me shitless. Thinking about if it had been just me and Gramps makes me sick to my stomach. So, without saying anything, I pack my bag as the three of them move some shit in front of the gaping hole.

“It’ll have to do for now,” Lucas tells me as we lock up. “We’ll get it fixed first thing tomorrow.”

Mav drives me and Goose to his house as Lucas and T follow behind us. Once we get there, I promise to take care of Goose, and to call if we need them, so that they can go do what they needed to at Mav’s across the street.

Helping Goose down the stairs, I make him sit in one of the chairs, “What happened to your ice pack?”

He shrugs, “Must have left it in the back of the ambulance. I’m ok. I don’t need one.”

I run my fingers across his jawline to underneath his chin until he looks up to me, “You’re always trying to take care of and protect everyone else. Let me do it for you this time. I’m going to go get you some ice from the kitchen. Don’t move.”

Turning his head to the side, he kisses the inside of my palm before closing his eyes and relaxing in the chair.

Finding some Ziploc bags in one of the cabinets, I fill it with ice, and find a dish towel to wrap around it, the whole while kicking myself. This is all my fucking fault. If he wasn’t with me, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. A cold chill racks my body thinking about how it would have ended if he hadn’t been there.

When I make it back down stairs, it sounds like he’s snoring. I shake his shoulder softly, “Babe, you can’t go to sleep for a little while. Doctor’s orders remember.”

He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me down to straddle his lap, “That’s better. I definitely won’t be going to sleep now.”

I shake my head with a smile, even though he can’t see it with his eyes still closed. Putting the ice against the side of his head gently, I tell him, “I put some ice in a baggie, and I can keep refilling it if it melts.”

“You know there’s an icepack in the freezer just for this reason, right?” he teases cracking an eye open with a smile.

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