Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) (38 page)

“
Listen. There
’
s a coffee shop down the hall. I-I haven
’
t heard anything about Kevin.
”
I breathe in quick at the mention of his name and she pauses for just a moment, thinking.

She lifts her hand and runs it through her hair.
“
Do you need anything? Do you want to go sit? Are you hungry? We can get some coffee
…”

“
I think I
’
m still processing you being here
…”

A small laugh escapes and she rolls her eyes.
“
Yeah well
…
you and me both, kid. You and me both.
”
She frowns.
“
At least let me help you clean up a bit. I had a feeling you may be needing some fresh clothes so I went ahead and brought some extras.
”
She stares at my skirt and looks back up at me.

“
How long have you been wearing those clothes?
”

“…
over 24 hours.
”

She shakes her head and motions for me to follow her.
“
We
’
re going to get you in some fresh clothes. Stat.
”

“
Your husband gets shot and you bring
me
an extra pair of clothes?
”

She shrugs.
“
Distractions. I need them.
”
She fingers the bottom of her cardigan and shifts in her leather moccasins before turning to walk again. I know she probably threw on this outfit in a rush to get to the hospital, but she looks put together even now. I stop myself from reaching for another hug and opt instead to simply follow her, thankful for the familiarity in the midst of the chaos swirling inside.

We walk into the bathroom and she pulls out leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She hands them over to me and smiles apologetically.

“
It
’
s not the best, I know but
…”

I breathe a sigh of relief when the clean clothes touch my fingers. Gingerly, I place them on a nearby counter to avoid staining them with blood. I shake my head and cut her off.

“…
but nothing. These are perfect.
”

She grabs some lavender-scented wipes out of her purse and hands them over to me. I rub the wet cloth all over my face and neck and grab the grime off my arms before leaning over the sink and scrubbing away the blood. My hands are shaking and it
’
s difficult to get them still enough to rub them up and down my arms. I see the water turn various shades of red and brown and I wonder if I
’
m washing Kevin away. If this, in all its morbidity, is the last I will see of him.

That
’
s when I start to cry.

It
’
s slow at first
—
just a few tears rolling down my cheeks. But then it
’
s an avalanche
—
building strength and volume and energy. All of the anger, all of the fear, all of the anticipation and vigilance, it just diffuses into sobs wracking my body. I can barely stand. The weight of the past 24 hours finally takes its toll and I collapse. Emma wraps me in her arms and I bury my head in her neck.

“
I was so scared. He wanted to kill me.
”

Emma
’
s breath catches and she squeezes tighter.

“
I know, Steph. I know. It
’
s okay now. You
’
re okay. You
’
re safe
—
really. He
’
s gone.
”

I
’
m crying so hard the pressure pushes against my temples and forehead. I keep moving my arm, still wet from washing, to wipe my nose. My eyes settle briefly on the way the stale-brown blood stains the porcelain around it and I remember everything.

The way my mom sounded as she took her last breath.

How Jude slid against the wall and caught my eyes before falling to the ground.

The thud of my dad
’
s body on the concrete.

The shallow breathing of Kevin underneath my arms.

It
’
s too much. I fall into another fit of tears and wonder when these images will leave me. I
’
ve been waiting for this moment
—
this freedom. I thought I would feel relief
—
maybe even excitement. But the only thing I can think of is how much this hurts. And that
’
s the really twisted part I will never tell another soul.

Because deep down in the crevices of what makes me, there is a little girl crying over the death of her father
—
monster and all. And how do you talk about that? How do you process the grief over losing someone you hate, when that same person ended up shooting the one you love?

.::.

I
’
m not sure how long we
’
re in the bathroom, but once the crying slows to a few renegade tears, I
’
m able to change. We find some seats in the lobby next to Max and I pull out Emma
’
s hair brush and run it through my hair. Once I get the tangles out from the braid that got horribly twisted during the ordeal, I feel a little more human.

I breathe deep, quieting the nerves inside. We still haven
’
t heard anything about Kevin. I
’
m feeling restless.

I need to talk to Jessa.

I realize that these past few hours are the first in a while that I haven
’
t had her by my side and I
’
ve gotten used to her being here. I know she
’
s okay, thanks to Max
’
s update when I first walked out of the parking garage, but I have no idea where she is or if she
’
s even
here.
I pull my phone out of my purse and shoot a text to Ren seeing if he
’
s around. After a few minutes with no response, I turn to Max.

“
Do you know if Jessa
’
s here? At this hospital?
”

He nods while looking at his phone.
“
She
’
s here and already giving the doctors hell from what I can gather. She should be out soon, if nothing else because she
’
s annoying.
”

I laugh and then cock my head.

“
Wait. Where do you get all of this information?
”

Max glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
“
I have my sources.
”

“
Oooh. Mysterious cop is mysterious.
”
I wink, knowing I
’
m toying with the line between appropriate behavior and offensive. I
’
m still not sure what this relationship is between Max and I. If anything it
’
s been more like a sibling relationship than a police officer and his charge.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window.

“
You know, Stephanie. After this is over we
’
re going to need to get a statement from you.
”

I pause mid-brush and look at him.

“
I know.
”

“
And we
’
re going to need to talk about you stealing my gun.
”

“
Oh that was yours? I was wondering
…”

“
It
’
s not funny.
”

“
I
’
m not laughing. But you may need to find an explanation yourself. It
’
s not every day a police officer just leaves his gun unattended.
”

“
If you would have shot your father with that gun
…
.
”

I hold up a finger.
“
It would have been self-defense and you know it.
”

He chews on the inside of his cheek and I glance toward the inside of his jacket. Just like I thought, his gun rested securely against his belt. I point toward it and look him in the eyes.

“
And it wasn
’
t stealing. It was simply borrowing.
”

He stares at me for a while longer and I smile, turning toward Emma flipping through a magazine. Her left foot is tapping a rhythm on the carpet and I know she
’
s nervous. I nudge her shoulder with my own and we share a smile.

One of the doctors walks into the lobby and Emma stands. I turn and look at her as she walks over to the doctor. I press my feet into the floor, keeping myself from running over and interrupting their conversation. I watch their body language, twist my head slightly so I can listen for key words and just wait. After a few minutes Emma nods her head and reaches out to squeeze the doctor
’
s arm.

“
Thank you.
”
She calls after him as he turns to walk back into the hallway.

Turning around, she catches me watching and smiles. I return the gesture, noticing the way relief has etched itself against her relaxed shoulders and easy steps.

“
Jude
’
s surgery went really well,
”
she says as she sits down next to me, gathering her things.
“
He
’
s waking up right now and the doctor mentioned I could go back and see him.
”
She pauses and finds my gaze.
“
They will only let me go back there, though. At least for right now.
”

“
Okay. That
’
s fine. Did you ask about Kevin?
”

Her eyes grow wide.
“
Oh no. I forgot. I
’
m sorry. I should have
—
I think they are in the same wing.
”

I hide my disappointment and puff my cheeks with air.

“
Do you think he
’
s okay?
”

She blinks and grabs my hand, a small smile playing on her lips.
“
I think we would know if something happened. Jude always tells me no news is good news in these situations.
”

My head falls against the wall behind me.

“
No news is good news,
”
I repeat, placing my hand on my stomach where the butterflies of doubt and fear are flapping wildly against my rib cage. There are two choices I have right now: I can either dwell on the fact that we haven
’
t heard any news from Kevin and I have no idea whether or not he
’
s okay or I can just put it out of my mind. I
’
m horrible at the first choice
—
often freaking out about things that don
’
t even really exist yet. The second option though? That
’
s where I excel. It
’
s how I
’
ve survived. Push it out of your mind and it doesn
’
t exist.

Emma turns and glances toward the door behind us, the one she
’
ll walk through to go see Jude. I sniff and squeeze my arms around me.

“
Go see Jude,
”
I offer, reaching up and wiping another renegade tear. Damn nerves.
“
I
’
ll just stay here and wait.
”

She looks at me.
“
Really?
”
She searches my face.
“
Will you be okay?
”

I nod.
“
I
’
m fine. Go see Jude,
”
I repeat.
“
Tell him the bastard
’
s dead.
”