Page 148 of The Best Shot

I shut off the faucet and waited for it to start.

Yasmine came into the kitchen in leggings and an old sweatshirt with somebody else’s college across the chest. The satin bonnet she slept in was still on her head. No purse.

“Morning.” I reached for a dish towel and wrapped it around my hand.

Her gaze dropped to my knuckles. “So it’s true.”

“Depends what you heard.”

“You and Annie stole Shaun’s truck, lured him to a biker bar, and jumped him.”

“We didn’t jump him.”

“Oh, good. Not as batshit as I thought then.” She lifted a brow. “You want to tell me it’s not as bad as it sounds?”

I had about nine things lined up and ready, but I picked the honest one. “It’s about as bad as it sounds.”

She nodded, like she’d expected that answer.

Then she crossed the kitchen.

I braced for it.

She took hold of my wrist and turned my hand beneath the light.

“Sit down.”

“Yaz.”

“Sit down, Hale.”

I sat.

She ran the tap until the water warmed, wet a clean rag, and started working the gravel from beneath the split skin.

She did it carefully, without saying a word.

Somewhere in there, I realized I was sitting in my own kitchen with my heart going like I’d run up on something in the dark.

I couldn’t have said why. Except I’d built the whole drive home around a fight, and she wouldn’t give me one.

“You’re not yelling,” I said.

“Not your mother, Hale. Why would I yell.”

“I’d take it if you did.”

“I know you would.” She turned my hand toward the window. “Also know you’re smart enough to know it was reckless as hell.”

She worked another minute before speaking again.

“I got in the car ready to scream at you. All the way ready.” Her fingers moved along the outside of my hand. “Somewhere around the Dollar General, I was picking my opening line.”

“What’d you come up with?”

“Nothing.” The rag moved over my knuckles. “I kept turning over what you did, and it kept coming out the same way.”

A piece of her hair had come loose under the bonnet. I wanted to push it back and didn’t.