Page 12 of Stryker

Because I wouldn’t be here at the end of this. She needed to find the strength within herself. She needed to dig deep for that resilience all on her own.

She needed to rely on herself, no one else, for comfort.

But I didn’t feel good about it as I crawled into bed. I felt like an asshole. Because she’d comforted me when I needed it, and here I was ignoring her when she needed someone to lean on.

Fuck.

7

Kat

Iwandered into the kitchen, chasing the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. The sunlight streaming in the windows aggravated my already-aching head and I wished again that I hadn’t been so stupid. Crying myself to sleep didn’t help a dang thing, it only made me headachy, groggy, and annoyed first thing in the morning.

“Good morning.” Stryker smiled at me and poured a second mug of coffee. I nodded as he slid it across the breakfast bar toward me. “There’s creamer in the fridge, sugar here, sweetener here.” He gestured at the different containers on the bar and I dumped some sugar in the coffee and stirred it up before wrapping my chilly fingers around the steaming hot mug like I could steal all its warmth for myself.

“Thank you.” I stared into the dark brew, trying to clear out the cobwebs of sleep.

My new reality hit me. As beautiful as my surroundings were, I knew this wasn’t a vacation. I was here because people wanted to kill me. Not only that, but my final words to my father had been cruel.

I’d told him I was sick of him. I’d ripped into him about not cleaning up after himself. For making me be the adult. I’d blamed him for the fact that I had to work so hard. And while it might be partly true, it was also not totally true.

Feeling awful, I let go of the mug and planted both elbows on the breakfast bar and pressed my palms to my forehead. What the heck was I going to do? Hide out forever? In the stark light of day I knew this plan wouldn’t last. Unless I could move away, I’d be on the run from these guys for forever. And as it was, I was broke and likely to be fired since I was obviously going to be missing work for the foreseeable future.

I blinked back miserable, helpless tears, hating myself for this knee-jerk reaction. Crying wouldn’t help. Still.

“Everything okay?” Stryker sounded concerned.

“No.” Everything was absolutely not okay. Everything was falling apart around me and while I should be incredibly happy to be getting this vacation I’d been craving, this was like some twisted monkey’s paw wish come true. I’d gotten what I wanted, sure, but at what cost?

“Want to talk it out?”

He sounded cautious and I wondered if he thought I was going to explode on him. I didn’t doubt other people had in the past, but that’s just not who I was.

“There’s not much to say.” Why did that keep coming up? “I’m going to get fired from my job or jobs. I’m broke, and this might make me lose my home. And to top that all off, there’s no way I can ever go home safely. I mean, these guys won’t just give up if I drop off the face of the planet for a few days. Right?”

I glanced at him and saw him studying me very closely. “Right.”

I nodded. “So this is an exercise in futility. I’m going to lose everything anyway and they’re going to win.” Hopelessness washed through me and my shoulders dropped so hard pain shot up and down my spine.

“I have to disagree. This way you have your life. You can come back from this. You can’t come back from dead.” He studied me over the rim of his coffee cup.

I lifted both shoulders. “I guess. But if I lose everything… What’s the point? I’ve worked so hard and I’m just going to lose it.” My whole life could be considered a cruel joke. I worked every second away but still never made any progress. Working two jobs I still couldn’t afford to even take a day off. I could only keep working and struggling to keep my head above water.

At this rate, I’d work until I dropped dead. Likely at a young age from stress. But at least my fight would be over.

Shame raced through me at the thought and I sucked in a deep breath. I wasn’t the kind of girl to give up. Not now, not ever.

“I’m sorry.”

I lifted my head and met his gaze head on. “Why are you sorry? You’ve been nothing but kind and helpful.” Not to mention what he’d put together for my parents.

“I’m still sorry you’ve had such a rough go of it. You deserve better.”

I shrugged. I’d never bought into the whole getting what we deserve philosophy. Bad things happen to good people. You make a choice; sink or swim. I chose to swim. Dad sank. Mom sank, though hers wasn’t her fault. Her disease ruled her life and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say, but I wanted to acknowledge him. “Do you believe good things happen to good people?”

“I used to.”

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