8. Blake
8
BLAKE
“Kori.”
Her name leaves my lips as a broken sound. Nothing but a reflection of how I feel on the inside.
It’s a punch to the gut that knocks the air out of me. That’s got me so damn disturbed I can’t move a muscle.
This has to be a dream… a fucking nightmare…
Korine stands before me, battered and swollen, leaking blood on my doorstep. Bruises mar her beautiful face, along with the kind of cuts that only come from a hard collision with a fist. By the slouched way she’s standing, I’d bet other parts of her are just as damaged.
At her side is her mama, Sunny McKibbens. Otherwise known as the neighborhood’s mama back when we were kids. She was always fussing over us, cooking us food and making sure we all got home okay. In more recent times, as I understand it, Sunny’s fallen gravely ill.
Worry fills out her plump face, her misty eyes on me. “Please help my baby. I don’t know what to do.”
I shove aside the deep-rooted distress that’s paralyzed me. The disturbed kind of feeling that’s got me unable to even respond right away. The situation’s that jarring and fucked up.
Kori doesn’t have to tell me why she’s here. She doesn’t need to say a word. The shame and pain rolls off her in waves.
Don’t worry. You don’t gotta say it. I’ve got you.
I communicate this by reaching for her and pulling her inside. Sunny wobbles in after us, clutching their purses and coats like she’s uncertain what might be waiting for them inside my trailer.
I can’t blame her. They’re both clearly traumatized.
Kori flinches at my touch and she limps at my side as I walk her to the sofa. Her body feels delicate and tender, like it’s been put through the wringer. She whimpers in pain when I ease her down onto the cushion.
“You might need a doctor,” I say, almost disassociated from the moment. The shock keeps returning, making me question again and again if I’m asleep.
How the fuck could this happen?!
Korine shakes her head. “No doctor. No ER. No police.”
“Korine—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “I’ll… I’ll leave if you call them.”
I fall silent, though tension rises between us.
Korine just confirmed what I already knew deep down. I’ve just been battling the reality of it. But the shock begins fading for the inevitable reaction I’d have in a situation like this, where my girl turns up on my doorstep beaten black and blue.
Rage that’s blinding and destructive, consuming me whole. It pulses through me, every muscle in my body pulling tight. My hands itch for violence.
To cause the kind of suffering that Korine’s been put through—and so much worse.
It clenches in my jaw and spills onto my face. It reflects in the shine of Korine’s dark eyes.
“Blake,” she says. “Please…”
The pain in her voice hurts.
It fucking hurts my ears, my fucking heart. Her pain’s my pain.
She’s been through it tonight. Me going on a murderous rampage against her piece of shit husband probably isn’t what she needs right now.
I force it back down. The rage and hunger for violent revenge.
I look her in the eye, wanting to let her know she’s safe here. She doesn’t need to worry.
I’ve got you… always…
“I’ll grab an icepack and the first aid kit, okay?”
She nods.
I rise up, unable to stop myself from giving a brief caress to her hair.
Sunny’s still standing in the middle of the living room, clutching their purses and coats close to her chest. The poor woman looks like she’s both worried for her daughter but scared to touch anything.
I ease their purses and coats out of her arms and set them down on a table. “Sunny, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Both of you. I’ll turn up the heat while I’m at it.”
I disappear down the narrow hall that leads to my bathroom and bedroom and collect all the things I promised I would. The heater rattles before it begins cranking out more hot air. It only takes another minute or two before my trailer’s extra toasty.
I kneel before Korine and crack open my first aid kit. It’s not much, filled with a bunch of bandages, antiseptic wipes, and nonlatex gloves, but a few things in here might help Korine. She sits still as I clean up the cuts she’s sustained, like the split in her lip and gash above her brow.
These are injuries that come about not just from a quick scuffle. They’re from a long, brutal, one-sided attack.
Korine’s hands bear no marks, telling me she didn’t even fight back. Not in any meaningful way that caused him real damage. He probably barely has a scratch on him. The piece of garbage beat her just to beat her.
It takes everything I have to keep calm and clean her up. Cracks form and my fury bleeds through. I can feel it in the way tension thrums at the pulse point of my neck. My jaw’s hard and clamped shut as I carefully apply a Band-Aid to the gash above her eyebrow.
“All done. Except for…” My gaze drops down to her side.
She’s been hugging her stomach from the moment she got here. Sudden movements make her wince and groan in pain.
A pause passes between us before she gives a hesitant nod.
I gently lift her shirt to expose her bare stomach.
My chest clenches with more immediate rage. Rage I squash back down; rage I swallow against as it rises up.
I try my damnedest to keep my cool, but it’s too fucking much. My girl’s been hurt badly…
A disturbing rainbow of bruises decorates her entire left side. Green, blue, purple, yellow, it’s a swirl of color up and down her torso.
The fucker didn’t even give the old bruises time to heal before inflicting new ones. No wonder she’d been limping that day outside the One Stop Autoshop. She was probably coming off a recent beating.
My hand extends, my fingers tracing over the swollen, discolored flesh. Something I should probably ask before doing, but the sight’s so damn disturbing I can’t help myself. It’s too unbelievable to digest.
That somebody could do this to her. A man who’s supposed to be cherishing her.
But as my eyes flick up to hers, I catch the plea in them. The ashamed wave that still encircles her. She doesn’t want me asking about it.
Not right now.
I finish cleaning and bandaging her up. She leans back on the couch with the icepack wrapped in a towel and pressed against her side.
“Is my baby gonna be okay?” Sunny asks.
“She should be. She needs rest. Time for the swelling and bruising to heal. Nothing seems broken.”
“Tell him,” Sunny says, directing her attention onto Korine. “Tell him what that big bully did to you.”
“Mama…”
“He knocked me right down. The big ol’ brute.”
“Mama, please?—”
“He was gonna hit me again ’til Kori got in. Then he hit her. And he wouldn’t stop?—”
“Please,” Korine whines, the pain in her voice visceral.
“He’s lucky I didn’t have my revolver on me. I would’ve put a bullet in him. That would’ve shut his big bully behind up.”
“MAMA! Stop it. I don’t want to… please…”
Sensing the friction, I interject myself. “There’s been a lot going on tonight. You two need to get some sleep. I’ve got a decent sized bed. It could fit both of you.”
“We’re not taking your bed. We’ll sit out here,” Korine says. “Mama can take the sofa. I won’t be getting much sleep anyway.”
“You think I’m sleeping in a bed while you’re here? After everything that’s happened tonight? The room’s yours.”
Korine’s mouth opens to argue before she seems to realize it’s useless. “Then Mama can have the bed. And, if it’s okay, her insulin needs to be refrigerated.”
“You don’t gotta ask. Make yourselves comfortable, alright?”
“I am feeling a little tired,” Sunny mumbles. She leans on the armrest of the chair she’s parked in. “My head’s pounding.”
“That’s because your blood pressure’s probably through the roof, Mama. You know the docs say not to get upset.”
Korine slips into caretaker mode at once, despite the fact that she’s in need of care herself. She winces her way to Sunny and helps her to her purse to take her medication. Then it’s off to the bathroom and bedroom.
I hang back and let them have some space.
To say tonight’s been a lot is a hell of an understatement.
I slide both hands through my hair and let out a deep breath. It’s gonna take time to work through everything, from my rage at Korine’s situation to actually getting her the help she needs.
She turned up on my doorstep.
Though she didn’t ask, it means something. She sees me as the person who can help.
Her safety.
Just like she’d been mine so many years ago.
It’s another twenty minutes before Korine emerges. She softly closes the bedroom door then pads down the hall into the living room area.
I’m over by the kitchen sink, peering out the square window above it. It’s too dark out to see anything but the pitch-black cloak that falls over the ravine. The view fits my mood on the inside.
Dark as night.
“I’m sorry for being here,” Korine says, fidgeting. “We’ll be gone in the morning.”
I glance at her, my palms flat on the kitchen counter. “Gone, where? Back to him?”
“Blake… it’s complicated.”
“It’s about the least complicated thing in the world.”
“You don’t get it. It’s not so black and white.”
“He beat you bloody!” I snap, my temper slipping loose. I stride from the kitchen counter where I stand toward her. “What more could there be to it than that? There is no gray area—the guy deserves to have his head bashed in! He’ll be lucky if he makes it into next week without me making it happen!”
Korine closes her eyes—or tries to. One’s too swollen. “I’m married, Blake.”
“So you divorce his ass!”
“I have nothing. I am…”
For a second, as Korine’s voice breaks and her lip quivers, I’m certain of the disturbing word she was about to use to finish that sentence. She seems to catch herself, sucking in some air, and wiping at her eye with the back of a hand.
“It doesn’t matter. Because I’m not getting you involved.”
“Too late. If you think I’m going to drop this, you must’ve forgotten who I am in the ten years since you’ve left.”
“Can we not argue? Please… I just… I’m…” she trails off as if losing any resolve to finish.
I see it clear as day. The hurt and pain that’s swallowed her up. It’s so strong, it’s worn like a second skin.
How didn’t I see it before? How hadn’t I noticed it the afternoon on the side of the highway or that morning in the parking lot?
Of course Korine’s been behaving the way she has—she’s been broken. The woman standing before me is a shell of her former self. Her sarcastic personality, the one that often had me laughing along with her, has been snuffed out. Her spunk and sass stomped out. Her spirit so destroyed she was about to call herself nothing .
It all makes my fucking heart ache. It makes me angry with myself for not figuring it out sooner.
Somehow. Someway.
Pushing harder the day I saw her limping.
“You need rest,” I say, my voice strained and gritty. “I’ve got a few extra blankets and pillows. The sofa’s more comfortable than it looks.”
“But where will you sleep?”
“I’ll manage fine. I don’t need much sleep.” I grab onto her hand as I pass her up walking out the kitchen.
Korine protests a couple more times as I set up the sofa into a makeshift bed. Once the pillow and blanket are out, she seems to lose any urge to fight me on it. Dropping down onto one of the cushions, she releases a deep sigh.
“I’m really sorry for bringing this to your doorstep,” she says. “I was driving around Pulsboro in the dark and… and I knew I couldn’t go to the police. And if I drove out of town, I’d be driving nowhere. So… I drove here. Without even realizing it.”
“Don’t be sorry. You don’t ever gotta apologize for seeking me out, Kori. Remember what you told me all those years back?” I join her on the sofa, claiming the spot next to her, and putting my arm around her in a side hug. “You said I never had to be embarrassed. You said you’d always help.”
A small sliver of a nostalgic smile touches her lips. “I was just saying what would make you feel better. You boys always got weird about crying. Even weirder if a girl saw you.”
I laugh. “My rep was at stake. Nothing was more pathetic than being a wuss crying ’cuz I fell off my bike and skinned my knee.”
“That wasn’t always why you were crying.”
“You were there for me just the same,” I say, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “That bedroom window of yours was always open. Don’t know where else I would’ve gone to escape Bill’s fists.”
I’m trying to keep my tone easy, though Korine’s not fooled. Her hand falls into my lap to give my thigh a squeeze of her own.
“How are you, Blake? How’s Bill? I heard about the accident.”
“Bill’s where he is. I’m where I am. We tend not to mix. For good reason, I’d say.”
She blows out a breath. “Does it ever get easier?”
“Life?” I give a shrug. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
“How’s the club? You’re officially a member?”
Korine’s seeking company. She’s seeking to take her mind off what’s happened. I can tell by how she glances over at me. Her fingers are busy fussing with a loose string on the blanket I’ve given her. A tell-tale sign she’s stressed.
So I give her the distraction. I tell her about the Steel Kings and everything I can about the club and the Chop Shop. She hums along in interest ’til her head’s drooping onto my shoulder and her eyes are closing.
She drifts off to sleep while I’m telling her about Ozzie and his thirty-six tattoos.
It’s a good thing she does—midnight has come and gone.
I ease her into a lying position on the sofa and then cover her with the blanket.
I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, but at least Kori will…