16 Rich #2
“Don’t read that!” she cries, ripping the pages away when I stand. My eyebrows lift as she tucks all of the papers tight to her chest, hugging them as she pivots away. “Don’t look.”
I frown. “I’m not reading it, Kim. I’m just trying to help-”
“You can’t,” she hisses, and for the first time her head pivots towards the window. “Did you find this outside?”
“Emilio and Laci found it in the hall. They handed it over for me to give to you when I arrived.”
Her eyes shift back to me, wide and terrified. “Did… did they read it?”
“I think they checked for your name, but no, they had no idea what was in the pages.”
Kim nods, her head bobbing several times before she shifts back from me. Her eyes watch me warily, and I can’t figure out what she’s thinking right now. “And you didn’t read them?”
“I brought it to you,” I tell her truthfully, though part of me really regrets not looking deeper. I was more concerned about coming upstairs to see her after Laci and Anita group-texted me that Kim passed out.
There’s something else we should be talking about, but when my eyes meet hers again she looks so incredibly tired. It’s like the relaxation from Euphoria is gone, and there’s a hollowness in her eyes.
She sniffles, gripping the pages too tight. “It’s nothing to worry about anyway. Just… words. It’s not from my attorney so it doesn’t matter.”
“And the case is closed,” I finish for her, remembering what she told me. It’s what she definitely told Jo on the phone. “So who’s showing up at your door dropping off shit like this?”
Kimber hesitates, wary eyes traveling up and down my body before she turns away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What the fuck?” I grumble, following her through the apartment.
There’s very little space between the kitchen and bedroom, a bathroom sandwiched between the two with a micro closet too, contents spilling out into the short hall.
“Kimber, this is about a bullshit murder charge. It absolutely matters.”
She shakes her head, stepping into the bedroom.
There’s a desk crammed in near the door, and a thick accordion folder sitting on top.
She gathers the crumpled papers into a single stack and stuffs them into what appears to be an empty slot, the entire structure teetering as if it might collapse at any moment.
My frown deepens when I notice another page further up the accordion, black sharpie marks resembling the pages she just tucked away.
When I reach over and rip it free, it appears to be another court document, this time with temptress written in huge letters across whatever the text is actually supposed to say.
She shoves my hand away and pushes the pages down, crumbling them further. “That’s private.”
“You’re being harassed,” I say, and her eyes dart to me in terror. “Is that whole thing full of notes like this?”
Kim chews her lip, that rebellious anger from a few minutes ago long gone. “It…” her voice trails off when I pin her with a glare, and she swallows and nods. “Yeah. I have a file that’s different from the stuff that my attorney sends me.”
“And who’s your attorney?” I ask, an edge in my voice. “This is something you should tell them about, not to mention the police.”
Her eyes drop. “James said not to worry about it. The case is dismissed. They want to appeal but he hasn’t returned my calls.”
“Your attorney told you to not be worried about being harassed,” I deadpan, clenching my hands. “Who the hell did you hire?”
“He was a court appointed guy. I think he’s just overworked.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at her. It wouldn’t help right now anyway. “I think you know exactly who leaves these cruel deliveries for you, Kim.”
She hesitates before shaking her head again. “I’m not going to do anything about it. Nope. She’s sad enough.”
I frown. “She?”
Kim sighs, turning to sit on the corner of her bed. It’s close enough to the desk that she barely has to move, her gaze cast downward. “It’s just words. I know how to ignore words. She won’t hurt me. It’s late anyway.”
“Who?” I ask.
She lifts her gaze, slowly shaking her head. I expect her to tell me no again and claim it doesn’t matter, but she doesn’t say anything at all. Instead her eyes sweep across my face, and panic grips my chest when I see her eyes mist.
She’s going to cry. This is not how I envisioned the day going.
“You’re here with me,” she says, and now I can hear the sadness in her words. Her eyes are glassy, but I don’t know if it's the unshed tears or the alcohol. “No one can hurt me.”
She may as well carve out a piece of me and squeeze my heart when she says stuff like that. It's sincere, and her eyes plead with me when our gazes meet. “I’m never going to really hurt you, Kim. You know that. You’re safe with me.”
“Exactly.” She scoots back on the bed, eyes turning away from the accordion file. There’s something soft and vulnerable in her gaze. “They just want to make me pay. I’m already paying, I think.”
First it was she, now they. “Who?”
But Kim shakes her head, reaching back to grab one of the pillows. “I just want it to be over.” She doesn’t come back from the pillows, and after a long moment I circle the bed and join her.
Kim scoots over immediately, casting away the pillow to wrap an arm around my middle. I tug her into me, stroking back her hair, and I can feel the little tremble in her shoulders as she clings to me.
“Tell it to me again,” she says, her voice quiet.
I frown. “That I won’t hurt you? You know that-”
“No,” she interrupts quietly, burrowing her face into my chest. It’s getting dark outside now, but it’s still pretty early in the evening. Too early to be tucked into bed, chasing her demons. “The part about safety.”
My heart tightens. It always does, because it makes me wonder how someone could want to put so much fear into her. “You are safe with me, Kimber, just like each time before this.”
Her voice is quiet when she repeats it before slipping into sleep. I hadn’t realized she was this tired, but her voice is thick with exhaustion when she spits out the word. “Safe.”