12 Kimber #2
I can’t meet his gaze. I already know he’s going to hate me because of what it makes me. Instead I decide to tell the counter, keeping my eyes trained there as I grip the edge. My voice should come out strong, because it’s the truth, but it sounds like a whisper even to me. “I killed him.”
Rich doesn’t say anything for a moment, and my shoulders rise to scrunch up by my ears. When I say it out loud without context it sounds so cold blooded, like I just decided to kill someone for fun, not out of necessity.
When his fingers grip my chin, I can’t stop myself from crying again. I shouldn’t cry over Jonah of all people. Maybe the tears are for Rich, who’s finally seeing my shame.
So when he asks the question, I snap my head up so fast my neck pops. “What did he do to you to deserve his death?”
There's no accusation. No judgment. Just cold acceptance like he fully supports this disastrous idea if I have some sort of reason for it. “That doesn’t matter.”
Rich grabs me then, lifting me up to set me on the counter before I can protest. He grips my chin now that we’re nearly at eye level, his violet eyes looking violent and angry for once as he stares at me. “It does. Tell me why the bastard had to die.”
He doesn’t expect that any of it’s my fault, which makes my head cloud with doubt and confusion. I can’t seem to form the words, staring into his eyes as I silently search for them.
What does he want me to say? I let someone beat me up? I foolishly decided to play victim? Some of its truth, some of it’s the toxicity in my head telling me I deserved it when other times I’m perfectly certain that I didn’t.
Rich drags his thumb across my chin, grounding me. “He did something, or it wouldn’t have happened. If you won’t tell me, I’ll guess.”
I swallow, unsure if that’s better or worse.
“I’m going to guess,” he says slowly, “that he hit you. More than once. You flinch when I box you in against a wall, when my hands are too close to your face. Your hair… you cut it because of him. He either made you hate it, or he used it to control you.”
I squirm, trying to look away but his grip on my chin doesn’t waver. “If he hurt a hair on that pretty head, Kim, then death by your hand was the easiest way out.”
“I disagree,” I say, frowning. What is Rich trying to say? That darkness in his gaze is unfamiliar; he’s usually so relaxed. But there’s a veil of violence surrounding him right now, like he wishes Jonah suffered. “His death - it was painful.”
“You killed him because he was attacking you?” he hedges, and I can hear the anger in his voice. It’s like he wants me to see something in the words that I don’t already know. “Because you felt cornered, or because you decided it needed to happen?”
“He threw me on the bed by my hair and I didn’t want to get hurt again,” I say, forcing the words out in a rush.
It gives Rich a moment to pause, and I feel those fucking tears sliding down my cheeks.
“I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, just kill someone for fun.
It - it was an accident! I wanted to threaten him.
I wanted him to stay back! I didn’t know the safety was off.
It - it wasn’t meant to happen that way. ”
Rich blinks, the grip on my chin loosening. “You killed him out of fear.”
I nod, and suddenly it’s like the story can’t stop spilling out of me. Now that I’ve started I can’t shut it up. “He was going to - he wanted to hurt me. I bought the gun at a pawn shop days before just in case. I just wanted to threaten him to stay back!”
“Stay back?” he taunts, crawling closer to me. “You don’t have the balls to shoot me. Let a real man handle that new toy.”
“I told him to stay back,” the words rush out. I’m not sure if I’m still making sense anymore or if I’m skipping parts of the story. I try to reach the shots again, but Rich’s body is in the way.
I blow out a breath. Even up here on the counter, his body keeping mine trapped, there’s none of the fear that I remember from Jonah.
Jonah was the only man who ever made me feel so inferior and weak that I let someone physically hurt me.
Everything that ever happened at Sins was consensual, and none of those partners ever pushed me past my limits.
They wouldn’t even mark me, not with the club's strict rules.
Maybe… maybe that’s why Jonah didn’t fit in there. He came only one time with me to S&S and he hated it. Those rules got in his way.
“He didn’t listen,” I continue. “Then he jumped at me and I panicked and squeezed the trigger. I hit his stomach. But then he tried to reach out for me and I panicked and did it again.”
I look up, meeting his eyes. It’s impossible to gauge what he’s thinking.
“He was dying. On my floor. I - I called 911 and then I sat down with him. I didn't hold his hand or offer comfort, I just sat and cried. I couldn’t look at him and I couldn’t walk away either.
Later I learned he lost too much blood and died at the hospital. ”
“Kim,” he says, shifting until I can't avoid his eyes. I make myself look at him, the guilt feeling like it might win on the inside. “Only one of you did something wrong. He was hurting you. You stopped it.”
I drop my head, tugging my arms close into my body until I can hug myself. I think I sound like a broken record, but I can’t stop repeating myself. “It was just an accident.”
“It was self defense,” he clarifies.
“He wasn’t even supposed to be there,” I grumble, closing my eyes. Crying is exhausting. I’ve never thought about how emotionally draining it is, because I don’t let myself cry in front of people most times. “He just showed up. It wasn’t supposed to happen and he wasn’t supposed to die.”
Rich doesn’t say anything else. I wait for him to argue, to give me more transparent reasons why this can’t possibly be my fault. But I can see the truth between the lies, and I know that I didn’t have to pull the trigger. It gave me a feeling of control for a moment, but it led to disaster.
Somewhere nearby I hear my phone buzzing. I lift my gaze when I feel Rich turning, and clear my throat. “Just ignore it.”
He hesitates, but I won’t turn to look into his eyes. “Do you get a lot of calls from an unknown number?”
“That’s not unusual,” I say, frowning as I glare across the room. I can still hear my phone going off. “I don’t save a lot of numbers. I try to block them if they bother me.”
He nods, and doesn’t ask anything further. Instead he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me. Automatically, my legs wrap around his hips and my arms slide up to wrap around his neck so I can cling to him. He lifts me, and then we’re turning back towards the bed.
I don’t fight, because I don’t know why I should bother. He’s going to replay my story in his head until he can find the holes, and he’ll realize in the end that I’m the villain.
When he sets me down the phone’s gone silent, but it quickly starts buzzing again. I pull away from him to reach over, grabbing the little device to turn it off when I catch the caller ID. S&S.
“Does the club normally call you?” he asks, and I shake my head. If it was about work Callie would text me, and I’m usually a last resort. They know I’m gone for the weekend anyway, and unlike Bobby and his bad scheduling they respect my time off.
“No,” I say, glancing up at him. It feels weird to answer a call right now but the club never calls, and something cold settles in my stomach as I try to piece together why. “I’m gonna-”
He nods, stepping back to round the bed. “Take it.”
I click the call, wiping at my cheeks and hoping I don’t sound like I just finished sobbing. “Hello?”
“Kimber,” the voice says, and it takes me a moment to realize who it is. We haven’t talked in months. “It’s Jo from S&S.”
Of course the owner would call me now. “Uh, hey.”
“Is now a good time to talk?” she asks formally.
I shift to lean on the headboard, Rich sitting beside me but not saying anything. He still looks tense, and maybe a break for a few minutes is what we need. “Sure. Is everything okay?”