Somewhere Between Water and Sky (Shattered Things #2) (39 page)

That gets her moving.

She smiles and leans forward to kiss my forehead. I wrinkle my nose in protest but let her do it anyway.

“
I have my phone if you need me,
”
she says as she stands.

“
I
’
m a big girl,
”
I call after her.
“
Go kiss your husband.
”

She turns her head over her shoulder, meets my eyes and raises her eyebrows, grinning with secret intent. I roll my eyes and fake a gag.

And it
’
s almost as if we
’
re back in her house instead of in the waiting room of a hospital, the men we love wounded and on the other side of the doors. She pushes the red button on the wall leading into the hallway and the doors swing open, shortening the distance between her and Jude. I watch her take a step onto the linoleum floor, the doors swinging shut behind her. I sigh and stretch my arms above me, noticing every hitch in every muscle that prevents me from stretching fully. I twist my shoulders and tilt my head right and left before standing up. Max glances up from his phone.

“
I
’
m going to grab some coffee. Do you want something?
”

He shakes his head and I nod, turning toward the entrance to the shop across the lobby. I don
’
t know who thought of a coffee shop in a hospital waiting room but it
’
s basically genius. I offer a prayer to the gods of caffeine that it
’
s not just drip coffee and that the beans won
’
t be burnt and walk through the entrance. When I see the chalkboard art behind the register offering drinks with espresso, I sigh in relief. I order my drink
—
an iced Americano with a splash of cream, and turn around to walk back over to Max.

At first, I can
’
t see him and I start freaking out a little. Outside of using the restroom, which is a high probability, I don
’
t know why he would just disappear. But then I hear his voice, and notice a couple is standing in front of him. The woman places her hand across her chest and shakes her head. I can
’
t hear what they
’
re saying but they
’
re visibly upset. I narrow my eyes. There
’
s something familiar about them
—
I
’
ve seen them before and I can
’
t place it.

Slowly, the woman turns and catches my gaze. Her eyes turn cold.

The recognition almost makes me drop my coffee. I grip it tighter and it rushes up the straw, spilling over the edge. I grab a napkin and dab at the drops of espresso on my hand and raise my chin, walking straight to the woman who is now avoiding my gaze. The last time I saw her, she was preparing Thanksgiving dinner at Kevin
’
s house and doing her best to ignore me and convince her son not to leave the house. I remember that day. It was the last good day we had together, until she called Kevin and then un-invited me to Thanksgiving dinner, effectively cutting me out of Kevin
’
s life.

I take a sip of my drink, as if it were my own form of liquid courage, and paste on a smile that spreads across my face.

I
’
m going to need it.

“
Hi, Mrs. Matouse.
”
I hold out my hand and leave it there until she
’
s forced to shake it.
“
We
’
ve met before under difference circumstances. My name is Stephanie. I
’
m glad you
’
re here.
”
I swallow and take a seat next to Max, lifting my leg and placing it underneath me. I lean over on the arm of the chair and glance between the three, hoping for some sort of clue.

“
How
’
s Kevin? Do we know?
”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kevin
’
s mom looks at me, her nose wrinkling.
“
Why are you here?
”
She spits out.

I frown.
“
You didn
’
t answer my question.
”

“
I don
’
t typically answer to whores.
”
She looks away from me as she says it and I feel my fingers squeezing into the plastic.

So much for my iced Americano. It
’
s in a puddle on the floor.

Fuck.

Max purses his lips together and glances quickly at Kevin
’
s dad before going to grab some napkins. Once he
’
s out of eye-range he turns and looks at me, pushing the palm of his hand down as if to say,
easy girl. Don
’
t bite.

I raise an eyebrow.

“
I
’
m sorry. What did you say?
”

“
I
said
…
”

“
You don
’
t have to repeat yourself. I actually heard you the first time; it
’
s why I dropped my coffee. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to not be a total bitch.
”

Her face blanches.

“
I am not a whore. And you can make up for your bitchiness by replacing my coffee.
”

Kevin
’
s dad sighs and throws up his hand, looking at his wife in frustration. I just sit there, waiting. He twists his lips and sets his hands in his pockets.

“
I think my wife was just startled to see you here. We were under the impression that Kevin was here at USC. We didn
’
t
…
we didn
’
t know he was still with you.
”

I stare at them.

“
You didn
’
t know he was with me.
”

Mrs. Matouse shakes her head quickly and looks me up and down. I wait for them both to look at me again before continuing.

“
We
…
we haven
’
t been together since Thanksgiving.
”

Their turn to act surprised. She throws the question back in my face with more venom.

“
So why are you here?
”

“
Well. What part do you want to know?
”
I start counting off my fingers.
“
Do you want to know about my psycho-dad stalking me after I left town? Do you want to know about the threats I received? Or maybe my closest friend being kidnapped right underneath my nose. The story about being held at gun-point is pretty not-fun. Or oh! This is a good one. Your son following his
whore
even after I asked him not to may explain a lot.
”

I leave out the fact that he was working with Jude and Max throws me a surreptitious thumbs up sign. His involvement in the case is not my story to tell, and as far as I know, there are far more implications in outing him than just connecting the dots for his family.

She shakes her head.
“
You manipulated him.
”

I point at myself. I can
’
t help the shocked expression painting its way across my face.

“
Me? I mani
—”
I jerk my head back.
“
Oh no. No. You don
’
t get to say that.
”
I swing my leg out from under me and stand before she stumbles back and her husband steps between us.

He looks at me and smiles.

“
It
’
s obvious we
’
re all a little
emotional
right now.
”
The emphasis on
emotional
has me rolling my eyes before I can stop myself. I feel Max
’
s hand wrap around my wrist and pull me back down toward the seat.

“
Easy,
”
he whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

I scoff and flick my wrist toward Kevin
’
s mom, as if her presence explains everything. Because it does. I curl my lip in disgust and Max sends me a look of warning.

Kevin
’
s dad turns his back to us and starts talking in hushed tones with his wife. I see her arms jut out and her hands wave around, at one point focusing in my direction. I stiffen and Max places his hand on my arm again.

I growl.

He leans over.

“
Seriously. Stephanie. Calm down. If you want to see Kevin at all
…”

That stops me. I turn and face him.

“
I can see him? He
’
s okay?
”
The hope within my chest blows wide like a balloon and I
’
m soaring before Max can even respond.

He nods hesitantly.

“
He
’
s
…
stable.
”
He glances at me and crosses his ankle over his knee.
“
He
’
s going to have a long recovery but he
’
ll make it. The bullet missed his heart but punctured one of his lungs.
”

“
Oh shit,
”
I whisper.

“
Right. But, he
’
s not critical anymore and his parents mentioned he
’
d be able to see visitors in a few hours.
”
He looks at me meaningfully.
“
So you know, maybe you should tame the crazed girlfriend approach?
”

I push my tongue against the top of my teeth and force myself to keep the words at bay. Instead, I just throw him my best serious eyes.

“
I am neither crazed or his girlfriend.
”

He shrugs.

“
Whatever. I know commitment when I see it though, and you have a sense of protection about you when it comes to him. No one can talk about you guys except for you. That
’
s commitment, albeit an immature form.
”

I frown.

“
Since when did I give you permission to psychoanalyze me?
”

He picks up the plastic cup sitting next to him on a table and raises it to his mouth. Setting it down, he looks at me.

“
Since you stole
—
I
’
m sorry
—
since we
shared
a gun.
”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“
Have I ever told you how much I dislike cops?
”

He leans back in the chair.
“
I
’
ve gathered.
”

I study my hands and look back at him.
“
But Kevin
’
s okay. Right?
”
I need to hear Max say it again; I need to hear it repeated until I can see him for myself.

He offers me a smile.
“
Kevin
’
s okay, Stephanie.
”

“
He
’
s okay.
”
I whisper under my breath, more for my benefit than anyone in this room. I watch his parents whisper in the corner, far removed from where we
’
ve taken residence in the waiting area and feel my eyes grow heavier and heavier until they close.