Chapter 1 Kat
Kat
Present time
The girl I was at eighteen is long gone. After everything that went down, she’s a forgotten memory and the woman I face in the mirror is guarded and reserved … for good reason.
In the last four years, nearly everyone I’ve ever known has avoided me at all costs. I suppose I’m lucky to simply be ignored and left on my own. Worse things have happened when crime families excommunicate members. It’s partly because I was only eighteen, Lydia told me.
From both of my past families, only one person remained my friend on each side. Lydia, thankfully, told her family to fuck off when they warned her to stay away. No one wants to be associated with a rat. Even if I didn’t do it, and it was all my father, I’m guilty by blood.
On the other side, the MC, it was Reed who made sure I was all right … that changed, though, so really I only have Lydia.
Just that thought makes my blood run cold.
“You feeling all right to go in?” Lydia, my best friend since we were itty bitty, pauses outside my house.
She dyed her brunette hair a shade darker recently and the moonlight hits it just right, highlighting a bit of red as her fingers toy with the ends.
Her gray sweatshirt is a size too big, making her look even smaller than she already does in those worn black skinny jeans.
“Feeling all right to go in?” I echo and her deep brown eyes widen as she looks back at me like I’m crazy.
With my free hand I dig the keys out of my purse, ignoring the uneasy feeling. They’re always falling down to the very bottom corner. Almost like they’re trying to get out.
“Seriously,” Lydia presses, a hand landing on my shoulder as she glances from me to my front door. “Are you sure you’re okay to go in?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I say and shrug, fiddling with the keys and then dropping every ounce of fear to move forward regardless.
“I mean, someone broke in, so it’s not fine,” she says, emphasizing the words broke in and waits for me to meet her eyes.
I shrug again. “I try not to let it get to me.”
That’s the best attitude for moving through life, I’ve learned. Don’t let things get to you or you could worry yourself sick and find yourself crying every hour of every day. Give yourself a few minutes to feel your emotions and get on with it. Keep your chin up.
That’s all I could do after everything with the MC fell apart, and it’s all I can do now.
It’s made me a stronger person. Some people might have collapsed under the weight of that life change, and God knows I wanted to, but I didn’t.
I carried on. Even when my dad vanished into witness protection and left me with nothing, I kept going.
I shift the bouquet of flowers in my left hand to the other one as we go up the steps, keys jingling as we go.
The benefit of working for the florist just outside town is that I get to take leftovers home on Friday.
We’re closed on Saturdays and Sundays, and my boss lets me have some of the blooms that look like they might not make it through the weekend.
Only the freshest flowers for our customers.
This bouquet of white peonies will have a happy home in the mason jar that’s centered on the hand-me-down table in the small kitchen-dining room combo.
“Well, I’m coming in with you,” Lydia says and crosses her arms over her chest as if I’d object.
“Good,” I tell her and point the flowers at her, pausing with the keys slipped into the lock of the door, “’cause I have two bottles of red that aren’t going to drink themselves.”
Lydia cracks a hint of a smile, but she doesn’t let up that the break-in isn’t something I should make light of.
Swallowing down that thought, I push open the front door and I’m met with the beep beep beep of the new alarm system that requires a code I quickly punch in.
The moment I hit the little green button, it’s silent save for Lydia pushing the front door shut and letting out a sigh of relief.
“See, safe and sound. The alarm system was a good idea,” I tell her as she looks around like she hasn’t been here nearly every weekend since I rented out the place.
It’s a small house, a little rough around the edges but with good bones. The inheritance my mom left me was supposed to go toward my college tuition, but that fell through. Just like most everything in my life.
“What did the police say?” Lydia asks as we go in and I toss my keys on the kitchen table, then hang my purse over the back of one of the wooden chairs. Setting the flowers down, I follow Lydia’s gaze. She scopes out the house like she doesn’t trust it, her eyes wandering from room to room.
“You know I didn’t call the cops.” Lydia stares at me, eyes wide with exasperation. She’s silent, though, ’cause she knows that’s not something I’d ever do.
Her mouth opens and closes with a silent protest, but then they form a thin line.
“You ready for a glass?” I ask her and she reluctantly nods, slipping her bag off her shoulder and draping it over her chair.
“Let me just have a look around,” she says without actually asking permission.
With my head in the cabinet, snagging two glasses, I listen to the old wooden floors creak as Lydia goes about her way.
I have everything I need here. A little kitchen, a little living room. A bathroom. Two bedrooms. It’s plenty of room for me, but barren for the most part.
I can’t imagine what anyone would want to steal. Nothing was taken but when I came home, the front door was wide open with the small glass panel busted out, answering the question of how the intruder got in. I’m not going to lie, I was terrified at first.
That’s the only reason I called Reed. I had to.
I didn’t see anything out of place and he didn’t see anything that made me worry. The alarm was his idea, though, and he had it done in a day. Emotions toss and turn as I remember the way he looked at me and how I couldn’t even look back at him.
With a long exhale I snatch up my glass of wine in one hand, grab scissors for trimming the flowers in the other, and take both to the table.
I’ve spent some time putting the place together.
I found the dish towel that hangs on the oven at a thrift store last winter.
I liked the look of the owl embroidered on the front, with teal streaks running through it and a floral pattern in the background.
I hung new curtains just before the break-in happened.
They have a bit of blue in the pattern that goes with the dish towel.
I have a teal teapot I’m in love with and a thick floor mat by the sink that cushions my feet when I’m washing dishes.
It’s cozy and cute and I’m sure whoever broke in was sorely disappointed. If only they’d known I was broke and barely making it by.
“I still wish you’d called the cops,” Lydia murmurs as she makes her way back into the kitchen, striding right for her glass of wine.
“I called Reed,” I tell her as if it’s no big deal, but my attempt at a casual tone is anything but.
“Did they help you at all?”
They. Lydia doesn’t say MC, and a chill creeps down my spine. I can’t ever think about the club anymore without feeling an empty pit in my stomach. Loss and sadness. They were my family, and I lost almost all of them that night.
“Reed said he’d look into it for me.”
“And?”
I shake my head, focusing on tossing the stems of the flowers and not looking her in her eyes. I know there will be questions there and I’m not ready to answer them. “Haven’t heard anything.”
One of the things I love most about Lydia is that she knows when to push and pry versus when to drink wine with me talking about nothing, pretending like it’s all okay.
“You okay otherwise?”
“Yeah.” And I really am okay. It took a long time to feel normal after what happened that night four years ago and seeing Reed brought it all back and then some. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her and myself both.
It took a long time to stop waking up with tears in the corners of my eyes.
I still miss the MC and I never drive down Cedar Lane just to avoid any thoughts of the garage and the club.
I think anyone would miss a group of people who were like a family to them.
But I don’t cry about it anymore. At least not much.
Lydia sighs a little. “You want a snack?”
“You know I do.”
“Chips?” She’s already digging through my pantry like it’s hers too. That’s how it’s been for most of our lives. She’s as comfortable in my kitchen as I am in hers. I could sleep in her bed as easily as I could sleep in mine.
“You know I’m going to miss this,” I comment and wish I hadn’t. I know she already feels guilty about leaving me here while she takes off, living out her dreams.
“It’s not like I’ll be gone forever,” she chides, the bag of sour cream and onion chips crinkling in her hands.
With an audible inhale, I tell her she better not be.
I center the flowers on my countertop and riffle through the pile of mail, grimacing at the bill I’ve been avoiding, the one stamped red.
“Ah, fuck it, I’ll deal with it on Monday.
” I toss the mail back onto the counter, feeling free of it.
Bills can wait for one more day. I want to savor this time with Lydia.
It’s going to go so fast. “Why do you have to leave me again?”
“College.”
“Right, right, right.” I grin at her to cover up the ache in my heart. “The whole doing better for yourself and all that,” I joke.
I laugh at her and she fake laughs back at me until we’re both actually laughing. I’m going to miss her so much. She’s been the only constant in my life for so long. But it’s what’s best for her. She’s going to be a doctor one day.
“So …” The tone of the conversation shifts with that one word and I’m on alert again. I stare her down, but she stares into the red of her glass, her fingers fiddling with the skinny and tall stem. “You feeling okay with Cillian getting out soon?”
My stomach drops at the casual question. I’m frozen with my glass at my lips, ready to take another sip. Finally I do it just so I can complete the movement, then put it back down on the countertop. I don’t taste a thing. “I didn’t know Cill was getting out. No one told me.”
Lydia’s dark eyes go wide and then narrow. “But he’s staying with you?” She makes the statement almost like it’s a question.
“What?”
“That’s what Reed said. He couldn’t convince him otherwise.” My head falls back with disbelief. He was just here. Standing right where she is.
“What?” Pure nerves crush into my stomach. “When did he tell you that?”
“Last week,” she answers nervously. “How didn’t he tell you?”
“How didn’t anyone tell me?” I respond, pushing my wine away.
“Cillian is coming here?” Emotions swarm through me, making every thought harder to focus on.
“I swear to God that’s what he said. He came in and—”
“Reed came in?” I interrupt her to clarify and while she’s rushing out an explanation of what happened, panic takes over.
All I can see is Cillian, standing in this small rental, taking up every inch of the place and staring back at me with his sharp blue eyes, asking why I stopped coming, why I stopped calling. My body goes cold and I can barely hear a word Lydia says.
You stopped calling too, I can already hear myself answering.
And his imagined answer makes my fingers go numb: ’Cause you stopped loving me, Hellcat.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” I snap out of it and have to wipe under my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Kat,” Lydia says and rushes over to me but I put a hand up, stopping her.
“I’m fine.”
“I should have told you the second Reed said something but I just assumed you didn’t bring it up ’cause—”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, hardening my voice and she’s silenced by it.
“I should have told you.”
“Do you know when?” I ask her, not bothering with should haves and could haves.
Staying with me. That means staying here, in this tiny house. The one that’s meant to be a bridge away from the past. No one said a word to me. Not Reed. Not Lydia. I had no idea.
“I’m not sure … soon, though. In order to be released, he needs a place to stay. Reed didn’t tell you anything?”
“No.” No one told me anything. “Don’t I—don’t I need to sign something for that?”
“Well, Reed helped you get this place, right?” The chair protests against the floor as she takes her seat again, holding the glass with both hands.
“Yeah.” I needed someone to cosign with me. Fucking Reed. If he were here, I’d lay into him. How could he do that, knowing what happened?
A voice answers all on its own. If Cill told him to make it happen, he’d do it.
I nearly voice the thought; instead I swallow it down with another large gulp.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say. I feel numb and light-headed, like I might pass out any second. “He’s coming home and he didn’t tell me. He’s coming here and Reed didn’t tell me.”
“Everyone’s been keeping secrets,” Lydia murmurs, and she gives me a look full of sorrow before taking a swig. “You want me to stay with you?”
I whisper, “Yeah. Can you just stay ’til I fall asleep?”
“Of course,” she answers, reaching out for my hand and I let her take it. A million thoughts overwhelm me. Every single one about Cillian. Every single one, a regret.