Page 60 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

He didn’t answer.

“Kaine,” I snapped, my hands and eyes scanning his body for cuts. “Are you hurt?”

His foggy and unfocused eyes drifted up to my face. “Piper?”

I took his bearded cheeks in my hands. “Are. You. Hurt?”

“Yup. Just like you.”

He wasn’t drunk. He was incoherent.

I didn’t see any cuts and there wasn’t blood anywhere, so I let my hands fall from his face as he breathed. Alcohol wafted off his body in waves.

I stood, going over to the chainsaw. I’d never seen one in real life before, but I searched the machine, looking for an off switch. Next to the handle was a small toggle and I flipped it, killing the engine cold.

The quiet was startling. My chest heaved as I stood, the adrenaline still pumping in my veins as I took stock of what Kaine had done.

He’d destroyed the chair completely. Sawdust and wood bits were strewn across the porch. He’d managed to saw uneven slashes in the porch boards too. He could have taken off his own arm. Idiot.

I whirled back to Kaine, fury taking the place of fear. “What were you thinking?” I shrieked. “You could have killed yourself!”

His eyelids drooped closed as he shrugged. “That chair was too short.”

“Too short?”

He nodded. “Half an inch.”

“I see.” I frowned. “And that meant you had to hack it to pieces like a crazed serial killer? Should I call you the Chair Chainsaw Murderer?”

He chuckled, flashing me his white teeth. “You’re funny.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Meh,” he muttered.

“Shit.” I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple.

Kaine sat on the porch, disheveled but no less gorgeous. His words weren’t slurred, but he was most definitely intoxicated.

“Just . . . stay there.” I held out my hand in a stay gesture, though I doubted he’d get too far in his state.

I hurried inside the cabin, my feet skidding to a stop at what I saw. The place was filthy. There were dirty dishes all over the kitchen and even some in the living room. The foul odor hit me next, making my face sour.

Kaine had always impressed me with his cleanliness, both here and in his shop. But it was like he’d purposefully tried to trash his home over the last two weeks.

From the living room, I could see down the hall and into his bedroom at the rear of the cabin. His bed had always been made whenever I’d been here before, but now the ugly green quilt was on the floor. The blue sheets were in a tangled mess on the bed.

I went to the kitchen, gagging as the smell got stronger. I risked a glance at the overflowing sink. The plates at the bottom appeared to be broken.

Was this disaster because of me? I went to the cupboards, searching for a clean glass. The shelves were mostly empty, but I rummaged around on the top shelf and found a dusty beer mug.

I rinsed it out, then filled it with water, taking it back outside.

Kaine had scooted across the porch to the stairs and was propped up against a post. Both of his legs hung loosely down the steps, his booted toes pointing up to the sky at different angles.

“Here.” I sat next to him and held out the mug. “Drink some water.”

He blinked slowly, his face lazily turning my way. With an unsteady hand, he took the water from my hand and gulped. Dribbles fell down his chin, leaving droplets in his beard. But when the glass was empty, he handed it back.