Текст книги "Falling for Danger"

Автор книги: Chanel Cleeton

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Four

Kate Reynolds is in the news again …

–Capital Confessions blog

Matt

It started the same way it always did. I was awake, lying in a grave of sand. I struggled to move, my body sluggish, my limbs weak. A burning pain filled my stomach, my chest. I tried to breathe, but my lungs were full of sludge—some kind of sticky liquid and the sand that shrouded me now. I needed to move. Needed to get up. I needed to move or else I’d die here.

The pain in my stomach grew worse. Jesus, it fucking hurt. I reached down, grasping my side, trying to figure out where the pain came from. When I looked down, blood engulfed me.

Something landed next to me with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt. The urge to cough was undeniable, but some instinct inside me resisted.

They can’t know I’m alive.

Another thud, this time something landing on my lower body. Then another one, closer to my face. I turned my neck an inch, the eyes of my buddy Jason staring back at me, his face covered in blood and dirt.

Dead.

Then another body. And another. A scream built inside me, desperate to escape. I wanted to move, to claw my way out of the grave filled with my friends’ bodies, but they kept falling, until all I could see and smell was death.

And then the blackness took over.

I bolted upright, my chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat covering my body. My hand gripped my gun, my knuckles white. My gaze darted around the room, taking in my surroundings, ready for whatever horror awaited me. Slowly, reality sunk in.

I was on the couch in Kate’s living room. I wasn’t in Afghanistan. I’d lived.

I repeated the words over and over again, my elbows propped on my knees while I dragged in air, the fucking burn in my chest nearly unbearable.

I’d had the dreams ever since the attack—not regularly, but often enough that I should have been used to them. Still, it didn’t make them any easier to deal with; I’d never forget the horror of being buried alive in a grave filled with my friends’ bodies, surrounded by guys whose kids and wives I’d seen pictures of, who I’d shared a beer with.

It fucked with your head to go from the memory of talking about going home and what you’d do when you finally got out of the desert to knowing they’d never get the chance to throw a football with their kids, never throw back a beer and watch a game on TV.

“Are you okay?”

I whirled around at the sound of the voice that had haunted my dreams nearly as much as that horrible day in Afghanistan.

Kate stood over the threshold of her bedroom, wearing the cotton shorts and thin tank top from last night. She looked like she’d just woken up, her eyes sleepy, her shoulder-length blonde hair messy in a way that tugged at my heart. I’d seen her like this so many times that the urge to take her into my arms and press my mouth to hers was as familiar as breathing. I dug deep and pushed it back.

“Did I wake you up?”

Sometimes the dreams came with screams. The few times I’d spent the night with a woman in the years after I’d left Afghanistan, I’d freaked them out with the thrashing and the noises I made. The souvenirs from my trip to hell were determined to stick whether I wanted them or not.

“No. I couldn’t sleep.”

I nodded, not sure what to say next, at a loss as to how to be casual with someone who still held my heart. I could see the struggle in her, too. After everything she’d been through, I was surprised she hadn’t totally lost it.

Balls of steel.

I grabbed my shirt from the floor, pulling it over my head. My pants came next. I waited to see if she’d walk away, but she didn’t. The unguarded pieces of her that I’d seen last night were gone; today she was a closed book, covering how she really felt with a hint of bravado. She looked at me with a nonplussed expression, as though daring me to try to make her uncomfortable. The Kate I’d grown up with had always been fearless—the first one to climb the tree, the last one to give up when everyone else was ready to throw in the towel. She’d been tough as shit; given the way she’d defended herself last night, some things hadn’t changed.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked.

“Please.”

She wasn’t the only one who’d struggled to sleep. I’d tossed and turned all night, fighting the urge to climb into bed with her and pick up where we’d left off. I’d meant what I said earlier, though. I didn’t want to drag her into my shit, didn’t want to risk the danger that had me constantly looking over my shoulder affecting her, too.I followed Kate into the kitchen, the view in front of me a punch to the gut. She’d always been tiny and curvy, hit every single check mark for me. Her ass swayed in her hot little shorts and it took all of my willpower to keep from pulling her hair to the side and pressing my mouth to her nape, kissing the spot that had always been a turn-on for her—and me.

Just the memory of having Kate in my arms again was enough to get my cock hard.

Do not make this more complicated than it already is. Don’t fuck this up more than you already have.

I’d told myself that it didn’t hurt to keep an eye on her throughout the years, had been unable to resist checking to make sure she was safe. I still kept tabs on the D.C. news, had seen the mentions in Capital Confessions, but I’d never imagined she was tied up in the blog or in the mess of what had happened to me. Never imagined she’d end up in the situation she’d found herself in last night.

I hated the thought of her in danger, hated that I’d put her there. Last night I’d seen the guy go into her building, and something about it, some instinct long since forged to keep me alive when people wanted me dead, had made me follow. When I’d seen him break into her apartment, I hadn’t thought about what would happen if I crashed back into her life; all I’d cared about was keeping her safe.

But now my plans were shot to hell.

“We need to talk about last night.”

Kate’s gaze met mine over the coffeepot, her chin jerking, eyes flashing. Challenging me.

“Which part?”

“The part where someone broke into your apartment.”

“You don’t want to talk about the other part?”

There it was.

I struggled to keep my voice even, to pretend like the time apart hadn’t made me crave her even more, as though I hadn’t been wandering the desert for forty days and had just stumbled upon an oasis.

“I told you last night, I’m not back for good. I want to see you through whatever this is and keep you safe, and then I’m gone.”

“Why?”

“I died in Afghanistan. I need to stay that way.”

“You’re hiding.”

“I’m staying alive,” I countered, not sure which was the truth anymore. Did it count as living if you still breathed, but felt dead inside?

“Then why do you have to play dead to do it?”

Because I worried that the target on my back would spread to the people I loved, would hurt her. I’d watched as my entire unit was slaughtered; staying alive felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford and playing dead was all I had. And in a way, I had died. Matt Ryan didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t want her to see who taken his place.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, suddenly feeling so fucking tired.

“I don’t know.” She played with the coffeepot for a moment, her eyes hidden. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “You were dead, and now you’re not. I don’t know where that leaves us. It’s been over three years. In some ways, it feels like yesterday. In other ways, it feels like a lifetime has passed. I know it sounds weird because you didn’t really die, but your death—thinking you’d died—changed something in me. I’m not the girl you knew and loved. And I don’t think you’re the boy I loved.”

She was right. I wasn’t. I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be him. My life was no longer polo matches and playing soccer, my biggest worry where I’d take Kate on our dates. That life had begun slipping away as soon as I’d enlisted in the military, but now it felt like someone else’s life. I’d lived in places and done things Kate couldn’t even imagine. I’d killed, and there was no question that I’d kill again to protect the people I cared about. To protect her.

But whatever version of me existed now still felt the same pull toward her that I’d always felt. She was the one constant in this never-ending purgatory where I was stuck somewhere between life and death, a walking ghost.

I gave her the truth as though she were a seasoned interrogator who’d broken me down.

“I just want to keep you safe. I don’t know what I have besides that. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want to make you promises I can’t keep. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that Afghanistan fucked me up. A lot. In ways you’ll probably never understand. I have dreams. Nightmares, really. All the fucking time.”

I didn’t add the rest—that sometimes crowds freaked me out—didn’t talk about the panic attacks I’d fought off for the past few years, or the constant need to look over my shoulder, the feeling that someone was out to get me, inescapable.

Kate reached out, grabbing my hand—her palm so tiny inside of mine—linking our fingers before I even had a chance to speak. She squeezed, her fingers tightening the noose around my heart that bound me to her.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. Best friends. I’ll always love you, even if we’re not together like that, even if you need time to figure things out. No matter what, you’ve always been my family, and nothing can change that or take it away.”

Just as she’d been mine. Neither one of us had grown up particularly close to our families. She’d had Blair, but their personalities were different enough that even though they loved each other, they hadn’t spent a lot of time together. We’d been inseparable. And she was right—I didn’t know where we stood as a couple—it felt like we were so far apart after everything that had happened, but I would always love her. I’d die for her.

“Let’s just try being friends together first, okay?” Kate continued, her brown eyes cast down so I couldn’t read the emotions lingering there. “We don’t have to have all the answers now. You’re right; we just need to get through this.”

I hadn’t had friends in nearly four years. Hadn’t had anyone who cared about me. And Kate was so far from just anyone. She had always been the best part of my life, and I’d lived in the dark for so long that it was impossible to deny how badly I just wanted a piece of normal.

“Okay, deal.”

Kate

In the cold light of day, all of the changes in Matt became more evident. He looked both larger and smaller than I remembered, as though the weight of all he’d survived had shrunk him and stolen the parts of him that had always seemed larger-than-life, even as his physical appearance had grown.

There were glimmers of Matt, moments that felt so familiar I ached inside, but in a lot of ways he still felt like a stranger. We’d been engaged until I’d found out that he died, and then I’d been in this weird limbo of feeling like a widow at eighteen without the official title. And now I was just strangely single again, even though my “fiancé” stood in front of me.

Friends seemed like a safe place to start.

I released his hand, the feel of his palm against mine tugging at my heart, and went back to making coffee, needing something to distract me.

“Are you going to go check the safe-deposit box?” he asked, switching from heartbreak to business with an ease I envied.

“Yeah, I’ll grab the papers and bring them back here. I should probably get a safe or something. Or a better hiding place, at least.” I hesitated. “I thought about it last night, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get the police involved.”

I wasn’t eager to advertise the fact that I’d had classified documents in my possession, which I should never have had in the first place—that would likely get me in some deep shit at work. Not to mention, protecting Matt’s privacy and safety seemed paramount right now. Besides, a police report would only get my name in the press and the fewer people who knew I was tied to this investigation, the better.

And still—someone had sent this guy after me. Someone knew I had the documents. Until now, I’d thought that the only person who knew about them was whoever sent them to me. But it didn’t make sense that they would give them to me and then hire someone to steal them back.

Matt nodded. “I agree. Considering the information in those papers—and the amount of influence our fathers wield in this town—I’m not sure involving the police would really be in our best interest.”

“So what’s next?”

He ran his hand through his hair again and something fluttered in my chest. “I don’t know. I want to see what’s in those files. I’ll make a few calls to some contacts in Afghanistan, guys who knew me after I ‘died’, guys who are tapped into the tribal networks. Then we figure out what play we need to make to keep you safe.”

“And you?” I poured coffee in a mug for him and set it on the countertop.

“I can take care of myself.”

Maybe he could; he’d been keeping himself physically alive all of these years. But the rest of it? He looked dead on his feet, and I remembered his mention of the nightmares that had plagued him. When was the last time he’d gotten a decent night of sleep?

I didn’t know a lot about the military, but I lived in D.C., and military issues were frequently at the forefront here. It was pretty clear that he suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, which wasn’t surprising given all he’d been through. He hadn’t woken me up, but I had woken up before him, and I’d stood in the doorway and seen his body jerk and twist, had been one step away from waking him when he’d jolted awake.

I set my mug down, walking toward him, figuring this was the first step to becoming friends. I couldn’t chase away his demons or slay the dragon, but I could give him this.

I stepped into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. The familiar scent hit me first, and then the sensation of holding Matt again.

Maybe it wasn’t just for him; maybe it was a little for me, too.

I missed having this connection with someone, craved this kind of intimacy. It wasn’t even about sex or romance; it was just the need to be close to another person, to not feel like I was adrift without anyone to hold on to. When I’d thought I’d lost him, I’d closed myself off to everyone in my life, putting a wall up around my heart, my emotions, my body.

It felt good to let the wall down.

A minute passed as I just held him, my eyes closed, listening to the beat of his heart, a lump forming in my throat at the weight of him, clinging to the parts I held as though he were sand slipping through my fingers. And then Matt shifted, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, his hand cupping the back of my head, fingers sliding through my hair, caressing me. His arms wrapped around me—hard—holding me to him like he never wanted to let me go, and something clicked inside me as he broke the lock I kept around my heart.

I hit the bank, my heart racing as I emptied out the safe-deposit box, stuffing the papers into my messenger bag, my mind reviewing the plan over and over again. I needed to make more copies. Needed to figure out more hiding places. I needed to find a way to try to get in touch with whoever was sending me this stuff in the first place. They held all of the cards, and I hated getting pieces doled out to me on their schedule. I wanted it all, and I needed it now.

Everything had changed after last night. I was done playing around, done with these bullshit, small-time attempts to take my father down. He and James Ryan needed to pay for what they’d done; I just needed the proof to make it happen.

I left the bank, the warm summer day hitting me as I headed toward the Metro. My gaze darted around, searching for Matt in the crowd. He’d said it was too dangerous for us to be seen together, but he also hadn’t liked the idea of me going by myself. Him shadowing me had been the easiest compromise. That I couldn’t spot him in the crowd was a testament to how good he was at his job. I didn’t know what exactly he’d done in the military, but I figured the Special Forces title said it all. Not to mention the way he’d changed, how he’d hardened into something I barely recognized anymore.

I pushed through the crowds exiting one of the metro stations, minutes away from my apartment. I glanced over my shoulder, my feet eating up the pavement. After last night, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe anymore, figured it would be a long time before I could walk down the street without a chill creeping down my spine.

Was I right last night—had someone been following me? Was it Matt? The guy who broke into my apartment? Or did I have yet another person after me? Was my name on some hit list somewhere with an amount next to it?

Someone bumped into me, a sharp pain hitting my left side. I doubled over, wrapping my arms protectively around my torso.

What the hell?

I looked down at my hands, the pain in my side growing worse. I froze, staring at the blood coating my fingers.

My blood.

I touched my side again, more blood seeping, covering my skin.

Oh my god.

I’d been stabbed.

Oh my god.

My legs trembled, a wave of dizziness hitting me as the warm July sun beat down on me. My vision tunneled, my mind racing.

The papers.

Panic filled me as I fumbled with my bag, wincing at the pain in my body. I’d never been knifed before, but fuck, it hurt.

I reached for the papers I’d retrieved from the safe-deposit box and my fingers came up short.

Fuck.

My gaze darted around the crowd, searching for Matt, for my assailant, for something, anything, the colors around me starting to blur, the white noise in my ears growing louder. Black spots filled my vision, my legs giving way beneath me. Just before I hit the pavement, I heard my name called out—Kate—and I thought I saw a glimpse of Matt’s face, terror in his eyes, but then it was gone and I didn’t see anything at all.

Chapter Five

Kate Reynolds was admitted to the hospital today. Since she was reportedly released several hours later, we hope it wasn’t serious, although according to our sources, her sister Blair came back from Boston to be at her bedside.

–Capital Confessions blog

Kate

“I’m fine. You heard the doctor—it wasn’t even enough to keep me overnight.”

“You had stitches. You were stabbed. You’re not fine,” Blair answered as she settled a blanket over my lap and tucked me into bed.

She’d flown down from Boston where she’d moved with her boyfriend, Gray, calling in a favor from a family friend who had a private plane. Gray came with her, and they’d gotten a hotel in D.C. She’d insisted on staying the weekend to make sure I was okay, and no amount of me telling her I was fine had discouraged her. Gray had gone out to get food and to give us some time together.

I hadn’t been a huge fan of his in the beginning—had been worried that his checkered past wasn’t good for my sister—but I had to admit that I’d been wrong. It was clear that he adored Blair, and whatever his history might have been, it was impossible to think he was anything but devoted to her. Not to mention she was the happiest I’d ever seen her. The time away from D.C. seemed to have been good for her, and she looked so much more relaxed, free from the intrusive media eye.

We’d grown up in the limelight here in D.C. thanks to our father’s position in the Senate and my mother’s thirst for social and political power. I’d given up trying to be the poster child for the perfect American dynasty a long time ago, but the expectations had always been higher for Blair so it was good to see her stepping out from their influence and finding a life that worked for her.

I winced as Blair fluffed the pillows behind me, the act of sitting up hurting my aching side. They’d given me the good pain drugs so it was only a dull ache, but it was enough to make me uncomfortable.

She sat down next to me on the bed. “You don’t know how scary it was to get that call.”

“I’m sorry.”

Given my relationship with my parents, Blair had seemed like the best person to use as my emergency contact. I was close with Jackie, but it wasn’t the same as twenty-two years of being sisters, even if things were still a little weird with Blair right now. Even if the shame of what I’d done, the secrets I’d shared, hit me every single time I looked at her.

“The police said they would be in contact with you to follow up on your statement,” Blair continued.

I nodded, already dreading that conversation. I couldn’t exactly be candid about what had been stolen, and since nothing else was taken, my only option was to claim that it had been an aborted mugging-gone-bad. They’d asked for a description of my attacker, but I hadn’t been able to give any information on that, either. Whoever had stolen the file had been a pro; I hadn’t even realized what had happened until it was too late.

Part of me thought about involving the police, but I couldn’t do it without implicating myself or exposing the fact that Matt was alive. And whoever was after this information was clearly someone with a lot of resources and probably even more connections. It wasn’t a leap to think that they might have someone in the police department on their payroll. And it wasn’t like I could cut a deal, because now I didn’t have any proof, and the proof I’d had hadn’t exactly been enough to convict anyone.

And where the hell was Matt?

“So do you know what happened after I fainted?” I asked Blair, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.

Had he been there? Did he try to help? Did he find whoever attacked me?

“The police said that some guy got to you and stopped the bleeding. I guess he had medical training or something. He left when the paramedics arrived. They were hoping to get his witness statement as well.”

So he had been there.

Blair reached out, her hand gripping mine. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

I squeezed her fingers, a lump forming in my throat. I knew I couldn’t undo the damage I’d done to her, but I prayed that one day we could put everything behind us and move forward. I probably didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but there were some bonds that were unbreakable. She was my sister, and no matter what, I’d always love her.

“You aren’t going to lose me. Promise.”

I wasn’t sure it was a promise I could keep, but the last thing I wanted to do was cause Blair more worry and pain.

She forced a smile, the curve of her lips at odds with the sadness in her eyes.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

I matched her smile, wondering if my poker face failed as much as hers. “Deal.”

“By the way, I called your work and told them what happened.”

I’d completely forgotten that I’d called in sick. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain that I’d been too sick to go to work, but not too sick to be out on the streets.

Blair’s lips twitched. “Don’t worry. I told them you were on your way to the drugstore to get meds for your cold.”

“Thanks for that one. Getting fired immediately after starting my job probably wouldn’t be the best thing. I like having money to buy food and keep a roof over my head.”

She grinned. “No problem. I kind of felt like a badass lying to the CIA.”

I laughed.

“By the way, why did you call in sick? You’re feeling okay, right?”

It was getting hard to keep all of the lies straight in my head.

“Yeah, I was just a little down.” I shrugged, the motion bringing more pain to my side. “My birthday’s always hard.”

“I know.”

I felt awful lying to her, but I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to tell Blair about Matt—she’d loved him, too, and I trusted her to keep his secret—and at the same time, it wasn’t my secret to tell. And I couldn’t stand the idea of someone after her, too.

“Jackie was sorry she couldn’t be here,” Blair added. “Will had an appearance tonight and she needed to be there with him. She offered to cancel, but I told her not to worry about it since I was here. But she’ll be around if you need her when I go back to Boston on Sunday night.”

“Thanks. Honestly, it’s not that big of a wound. I feel stupid that I even fainted; I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“You lost a lot of blood; they had to stitch you up. It kind of is a big deal.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Blair hesitated for a second. “Mom and Dad both called to see how you were doing.”

I didn’t speak to either one of my parents; even though Blair had definitely distanced herself from our family, she clearly hadn’t completely cut ties with them, which given her frequent role as peacemaker wasn’t exactly surprising.

“What did you tell them?”

Was my father calling to see if his associate had finished the job?

“That you’re fine and I’m taking care of you.” She made a face. “It hit Capital Confessions.”

I stifled a groan. “Awesome.”

“Dad mentioned something about cracking down on street crime. Maybe using what happened to you to garner support.”

I fucking knew it. The man never missed an opportunity to push his agenda. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d engineered the whole thing and still tried to use it to his benefit. My father made Machiavelli look like a giant pussy.

“Happy my misfortune could benefit him.”

She smirked. “If that isn’t the Reynolds family motto, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m surprised he even cares about street crime—or thinks it’s worth it to pretend to. Has he turned over a new leaf? Worrying about the peons now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve given up trying to predict what the hell his agenda is. I could spend the rest of my life never hearing about politics and be happy.”

We’d both been political science majors in undergrad, but whereas Blair had done it to make our father happy, I genuinely loved my major. I didn’t want to go into politics, had no patience for the glad-handing and all the other bullshit that came with elected office, but I did love my work as an analyst.

Blair’s expression grew serious as she opened the can of worms I could tell had lingered under the surface since she showed up at the hospital.

“This was just a mugging, right?”

I struggled to keep my tone and expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me that you aren’t in any danger. That this was just something random that could have happened to anyone.”

I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t know how to tell her the truth. We were sisters, but in a lot of ways, our personalities couldn’t have been more different. She’d never understood my desire to see our father’s career destroyed. I’d told her my suspicions about his involvement with Matt’s death, but I’d tried to shield her from the details of it. She might have been two years older, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t feel a need to protect her, to make sure she was safe. This wasn’t her battle to fight, and she’d already been caught in the crosshairs.

“I’m okay.”

“Getting stabbed in the street isn’t okay. Are you still involved with the stuff with Matt’s death?”

I couldn’t lie to her. Not when I was trying to regain her trust.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Anger flared in her eyes. “This wasn’t an accident, was it?”

I reached out and squeezed her hand, holding her gaze.

“I can’t talk about it, okay? I’m sorry. I don’t want to lie to you, but I can’t tell you everything. And honestly it’s better that you don’t know. I’m sorry that you had to come down here for this, and I’m sorry that you were worried. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I understand.” My chest tightened. “I’m sorry I hurt you before. You were right—I was so consumed with what happened to Matt, so angry, that I didn’t think about who I hurt. I promise I won’t ever do something like that again. But this is a part of me that I just can’t share with you.”

“God, Kate.”

“If it makes you feel better, I have someone helping me with this. I’m not alone.”

“Really? Where were they when you were getting stabbed?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What about getting the authorities involved? The police?”

“I’ve thought about it, but you have to trust me. There are reasons why I really can’t get the police involved. I have to be smart about this. You know just as well as I do that power and money go a long way in this town.”

“Do you honestly think our father is behind this?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t– I feel like we’re in a bad play or something. I mean, yeah, part of me can see him doing something like this, and at the same time, I just can’t believe he’d try to have his own daughter killed.” She shook her head. “It was hard to forgive them for the way they treated Jackie—for the fact that he completely shirked his responsibility toward her, but this is something else entirely. How can I ever look at them again? Ever speak to them again? Do you think Mom knows?”

“I don’t know.”

“This is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.”

I didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know how this had become our lives. But I wanted Blair as far from my investigation as possible.

“I’m handling it. Promise me you’ll stay out of it. I’m serious, Blair. I know you’re my big sister, but I can’t be worried about this affecting you, too. This is my fight. Let me fight it.”

“If you need anything—”

“I know.”

A moment passed between us that thanks to twenty-two years of history, needed no words. On one hand, it felt like a continuation of our relationship, and on the other, like we were growing up and changing, the roles of “big sister” and “little sister” evolving as our lives diverged.

We both turned at the sound of Gray’s voice as he returned from picking up dinner, his presence a stark reminder that we were both developing our own lives, moving on from the family we’d been born to for the ones we’d created.

“I come bearing Chinese,” he called out, holding up a paper bag. His gaze drifted from my face to Blair’s. “Is everything okay?”

Blair forced a smile, squeezing my hand before releasing me and rising to kiss his cheek. “Yeah, it is. Is there any orange chicken in there?”

I let them fuss over me, my latest round of pain meds dulling my senses as Blair set out everyone’s food, the sound of their chatter filling the gnawing space inside me that worried about Matt, about losing the papers, about the massive shitstorm I’d become mired in. For a moment, life felt normal. We sat in my bedroom eating dinner until the pain meds set in and I fell asleep.