Page 67 of Second Shot

“I don’t do drugs,” she says softly. “I heard what you said earlier. And I wanted you to know that I don’t want to hurt you or your family. I’m not…ajunkie.”

I can’t help but grunt. “Blake said you can stay here as long as it takes for you to get back on your feet.” I shove my hands in my pockets and look down at her, my heart twisting in my chest for the girl staring up at me. “Once you’re better, I’ll look into getting you a place of yourown.”

She pulls her lip between her teeth again, her eyes widening. “I don’t needyour-”

“Yeah, you do. So, the way I see it, you have two choices. You can accept my help, or you can run. I’m not asking you to decide right now. But I will tell you this. You stay, you follow myrules.”

“Rules?” Her chin is quiveringnow.

I’m pretty sure the kid thinks I’m an insensitive thug, or worse, but I need to make sure she knows I’m not fuckingaround.

“You get a job when you’re able. You don’t steal from me or from Blake. And absolutely nodrugs.”

“Idon’t-”

“No drugs,Kiley.”

She gives a small nod. “Okay.”

I watch her silently for a moment, searching for any hint of deception, but she keeps her face averted. Maybe I’m being too hard on her. But then, maybe if I’d been harder on Sam, he’d still bealive.

She fidgets with her cup, which I realize now is filled with a broth based soup that she hasn’ttouched.

“And, for God’s sake, eat something. You look like you haven’t had a meal indays.”

Her gaze comes up then, and what I see guts me, because I realize how close to the truth my wordsare.

People talk about carrying a weight on their shoulders, but I’d never felt the actual physical presence of it until today. It’s a heaviness in your very soul. A numb pain. It’s an oxymoron maybe, but that’s how it feels. Like the emotional pain is so heavy that your body becomes frozen from it, and you are wound so tight that at any moment you know you couldsnap.

That’s how I feel as I push the elevator button to take me up to myapartment.

Drained.

Raw.

The only thing that keeps those pent-up emotions from spilling over is the thought of Brynne’s smile this morning, the way her body trembled at mytouch.

I need hertonight.

Herbody.

Herheart.

Hertrust.

I’m desperate forthem.

The apartment is quiet and dark when I come in. I kick my shoes off, and go to her studio, but it’s dark aswell.

It’s only quarter to ten. She never goes to sleep this early. But the lights under her bedroom door areoff.

I know it’s selfish waking her, but I knockanyway.

Nothing.

I open the door slightly. “Brynne?”

The bed is made, and she’s not init.

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