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“Yes, please.” She bites her lower lip. “But don’t let me go, okay?”
We move together toward the fridge, and I pull it open with one hand, grabbing a bottle from the shelf. I let the door slam shut and hand her the bottle. I keep my arms wrapped around her as she twists off the cap and takes a long sip. She slips the bottle under my arm and places it on the counter before resting her head against my chest again. Her breathing has finally calmed, and I can feel her heartbeat thumping against my chest. I drop my head on top of hers, stroking the back of her hair until she’s ready to speak.
I swallow hard, past the golf ball-sized lump in my throat.
I want to comfort her. I want to take away her pain. I want so much, dammit.
But if she knew what I’d done, she’d hate me.
Hell, she might even kill me.
“Can we sit down?” she whispers.
“Yeah, of course.” I lead her into the living room and over to the couch, where she drops into the plush cushion. I sink next to her and she slides over, plastering herself against me. It’s hard to ignore the effect of her body pressed against mine, and fuck me, I’m a sicko for even thinking that. But it doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to my groin. And it doesn’t prevent my pulse from throbbing against my neck. And it sure won’t keep my fingers from twitching, desperate to trace a path across her soft, smooth skin.
“I love chocolate cake,” she says in a tearful voice. “I mean, I used to love it. Now, I can’t even stand the smell of it.” Loud sniffle. “My mom used to make me and my twin sister a chocolate cake every year on our birthday. She knew how much we loved them.” Kat takes a long, unsteady breath. “The last one she made was on our sixteenth birthday, eight years ago.”
I tighten my arms around her, pressing my lips together, waiting for her to continue with the story I already know too well, barely breathing…
“That was the day she and my sister were murdered.” Her voice quivers, but she continues with her gut-wrenching story. “The cops said it was drug addicts who were looking to make some quick cash. They broke into my house, killed Mom and Lili…” She pulls herself off of me, her dark hair soaked with tears and matted to the sides of her face. “They killed Stoli, our dog, too. But not me. They knocked me out before they left, but they didn’t hurt me at all. I never understood why. Why did I survive? When I woke up, there were cops, paramedics, and neighbors swarming the place. I saw Mom and Lili lying next to each other and there was blood…so much blood…” Her eyes brim with tears, and she shakes her head. “Those bastards let me live, and every day since then, I wish they’d killed me, too.”
“No, Kat,” I whisper, my voice thick. “Don’t say that.”
She nods, the tears flowing down her cheeks. “I mean it,” she murmurs. “They’re gone, and I’m here, all alone. I miss them so much. It never gets better or easier. That’s what everyone says will happen over time, but it doesn’t. It hurts just as much now as it did then. And my dad…he doesn’t care about me. Especially today.”
“What’s today?” I swipe away the tears with my thumb and forefinger.
“It’s my birthday. The anniversary of their death.”
And to celebrate, we have Lindy’s cake taunting us from the kitchen island. “And Lindy’s cake brought it all back. I’ll get rid of it right now.” I make a move to pull myself off the couch, but Kat’s fingers grip my wrist.
“Don’t you dare,” she said. “Lindy would be so upset. She made it for you.”
“I’m more concerned about you than my stomach.”
“I appreciate it. Nobody has said that to me in a really long time.”
“That they pick you over dessert?”
“That they pick me at all.” Her lips curl into a half-smile. “So, thanks.”
“I’d always pick you.” Oh, shit. Those words sneaked out before I could gulp them back in.
She tilts her head to the side. “That’s good to know. Although I was pretty sure after last night, you’d feel the exact opposite way. You were right, too. I was out of line. It’s just a really hard time for me. Every year, I relive that day, those moments of terror.” She shakes her head. “And I do it alone. My dad…he disappears at the same time every year to drown his sorrows in vodka at the same hotel we stayed at when we were kids and came to New York for a fun family weekend. Fun family weekends didn’t happen often because of his work. I guess he goes there because he knows he’ll never have another one again, and it’s a reminder of everything he lost.” She sniffles. “And I haven’t gotten so much as a How are you? text on this day for the past eight years.”
“I hate hearing that,” I mutter. What a scumbag. Holding out on his only surviving daughter for almost a decade, convincing her the cops were right about drug addicts killing her mom and sister when it was all his fucking doing…his business, his enemies. He did shit that destroyed his family. For all of this time, he’s left Kat in the dark, by herself, to deal with the demons who keep haunting her.
And now I’m just one more person who’s feeding into the lies.
A sharp ache assaults my heart at the realization. “Kat, I…I really am so sorry.”
“Thanks,” she whispers. “You know, I’ve never told anyone about what happened to them. I mean, Shaye knows they died, but I never told her any more than that. She’s probably the only friend I really have.”
My brow furrows. “Hey, what about me?”
She taps a fingertip to her tear-streaked cheek. “I don’t know. I haven’t quite figured you out yet.”
“Yeah, well, same here. I thought you were some insane, twisted bitch with a black soul and huge chip on her shoulder.”
