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She giggles, but then her eyes focus on my finger-licking and widen a little before she turns away.
“I’ll let Kayla know how much you hated her rolls,” she says.
“Oh, she made them?” I could have eaten another ten of the tiny things, but I gulp down the juice instead. “They’re really good. Maybe she could show me how to make them one day.”
“You want to learn how to cook?”
I put my glass down, shrug. “Yeah. Is it weird? I’ve watched Mel at the taco stand, but I can’t eat tacos every night.”
She blinks at me, looking confused. “Can’t you cook somethin
g else?”
“If I knew, I would.” Now my belly’s full, my eyelids are drooping. I stifle a yawn. “It’s strange, having a kitchen, you know, where you can store food and cook and stuff. On the street you just grab what’s cheap and ready.”
Her face falls, and yeah, I’ve shoved her into the shitty reality of my past again. I keep forgetting most people have no clue what that’s like.
Not sure whether I should say I’m sorry for speaking out or cut my losses and shut up.
But then she says, “I’m sorry.”
What is she sorry for?
“Well, I’m not. Having a kitchen is damn cool, let me tell you that.”
She huffs a little laugh and pushes at my shoulder with her hand. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” When I stare at her, lost, she swallows hard and sits back down across from me. “I’m sorry you had to live like that before. It makes me sad.”
I hate pity. All my life I’ve fought it. I’m a proud person, although I’ve had to crack down on my pride quite a few times to avoid checking out of this world. Still… I’m glad she’s not pitying me, because otherwise I’d be out the door already.
And thinking she’s sad on my behalf sends those bands of warmth tightening around my chest until I can hardly breathe.
“Today…” I turn the cool glass in my hands, making it squeak on the table. “Today’s Helen’s birthday.”
I have no clue why I’m telling her this, sitting at the little table in her bright kitchen, spilling my guts out. I haven’t talked about Helen since the day she vanished. What’s wrong with me?
And worse still, why can’t I seem able to fucking stop?
“I always toast her with a shot of brandy on her birthday. She liked the stuff. I save a bottle in my room for special occasions.” I force my hands to still on top of the table. “I asked Mel to let me leave early. Not because of Helen, just…”
My fists are so tight my nails bite into the flesh of my palm, and yet I can’t feel any pain. Numb.
“What happened?” Her hands slide over mine like cool water, covering my fists, until I relax them and let my hands lie flat on the table. “When you got home?”
“Things went to hell before that.” I draw a breath and find myself trembling, so I pull away my hands and let them fall on my thighs. “On the way, I met Jason. He’s a hooker, still works the streets. He’s the one who found me that night when I was attacked, three years ago.”
“The night you got the scars?”
I find myself scratching at them unconsciously, and make myself stop. “Yeah. Jason has been on my case since then to report what happened to the police. I refused. Guy who cut me up is a gang leader. He’ll have my head on a spike if he finds out.”
She pales as she bows her head, taking this in. “I understand.”
Not fucking likely, not without knowing the whole story, and fuck if I’m ever telling her.
“Yeah, well. Jason insisted I should report the guy, said he’s been harassing everyone in the neighborhood. Harassing people I know, that I lived side by side with.” I heave a breath that seems stuck in my chest. “Jason was right. The guy attacked another homeless boy early this morning, cut him up. Kyle is his name. He’s at the fucking hospital. I don’t know the boy, but if I had reported the sicko back then, if I had done something… this wouldn’t have happened. Fuck, this is on me.”
A screech alerts me to the fact she’s pushed back her chair. I look up to see her walk around the table. She kneels at my feet. I have no clue what she’s doing, not even when she takes my hands in hers and squeezes.
“And then what happened?” she asks softly, so softly that I have to tell her, have to keep talking, because for once in my life someone is paying attention. Yeah, Zane and Rafe and the guys asked me some questions, but they mostly let me be, and I was grateful.
