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"It’s okay, Kyle, it’s okay, it isn’t all your fault, it was me too, okay? It was me too. We were both caught off guard. Can we start over?"
He looked up at her with wary eyes. "Start over? You don’t mean that."
"I do. I do," she nodded. "Just let me clean up, wash my face. Let me…start over."
She stood up and retreated just out of his grasp, but she didn’t run. Kyle was on his knees, but he still blocked the only path to the door, forcing her to play the long game. He looked up at her, then down at the gun, and with every bit of nerve in her spine, Katie took a step even closer and stuck a hand out, an offer to help him stand.
"That’s two easy outs for the Mavericks. They came ready to play in game two today, folks."
"Start over? You don’t mean that," he repeated, his hand clutching her as he got first to his knees and then stood fully erect with the pained groan of an old man.
"I do," she repeated in turn.
"How do we start over?" he asked. "What do you want me to do? Go back outside?"
Yes!She almost said it. Almost made an attempt to usher him out the door, but his eyes were narrow slits of distrust.
"That’s a nice wallop to center. Hawkins is waving Martin off aaaaaaand he’s got it. That’s three away and we’ll head to commercial while the Pirates take the field."
Katie sighed. "No, no, don’t go back outside. Just let me wash my face."
He let her go, but shuffled behind and leaned up against the door frame of the bathroom while she steadied her hands on the sink knobs. She turned them slowly, buying time while her eyes scanned for possible weapons without moving her head. She could feel him watching her. Guarding her. Blocking her in.
What the fuck, Katie? Why did you just trap yourself in the bathroom? Why are you so stupid? So silly?
She brought the cool water to her face to splash away the voice in her head. The voice that sounded like Kyle. And her mother. That sounded like she was slowly going crazy in her own brain.
"Breathe, breathe…breathe and think," she coached herself in the barest hint of a whisper.
"Welcome back to JTM Industries Stadium. We’re heading into the bottom of the first inning with Javier Hernandez up first, Archie Johnson on deck, and then Landon Ryan, ready to take his hitting streak to twenty-nine games. He had a hot bat in game one. Can he keep it up in game two?"
Katie brushed more water up onto her cheeks, then took her time unfolding a hand towel, stalling, giving serious consideration to breaking the mirror and diving for Kyle’s throat with the first shard she could grab. He pranced in the doorway, the manic agitation filtering off him and engulfing her, threatening to crumple her into a ball on the floor again.
"No, nuh-uh, no," she muttered into the hand towel. Not like this. She didn’t go down like this. Not with a really cool job, and Ellis and Alex and a whole world to explore out there. Not with Landon out there. He’d always be there, even if she never got to be with him again. On television, in the news, in her memories. He’d be there and she wanted to be around to watch whatever he did next.
"Up first, it’s Javier Hernandez at the plate. Hernandez hitting one-eighty-two and has yet to homer. Walked twice in game one earlier today, with one strike out. Annnd that’s foul."
Katie threw the towel in the sink and spun around to stare back at Kyle with eyes and hair as wild as his.
"Do you want food?" she asked, not waiting for his answer. "You must. You must be exhausted, I’ll make you food."
She pushed right past him, finagling herself through the tiny gap between his body and the door jamb, ignoring the gun that brushed up against her belly.
"Huh, wha…wait," Kyle fumbled for her, but she marched into the kitchen and started pulling out pots and pans, relishing in the small victory of escaping the bathroom.
"Now, don’t try, uh, anything, uh, funny," he said, only steps behind her.
She pretended not to hear and flashed him a cheerful smile. "How about a sandwich? And soup? I have chicken noodle. It’s canned so nothing as good as your aunt used to make. Aunt Vicki. How is she? She was always so kind to me."
Not true. Not true at all, but Katie knew what worked with him. He didn’t answer right away, so she looked over her shoulder, soup can in hand.
Kyle’s gaze was clouded, a fist bumping rhythmically against his lips. "Vicki? She's, uhhh…she’s, uh, fine. She’s good. I think."
Katie turned back to open the can. The confusion worried her. Angry people lashed out; confused people did confusing things, which made it hard to stay a step ahead of them.
"Hernandez issssss out at first. I hope Johnson is taking notes because Markle’s curve is on point tonight."
"What are you watching?" Kyle asked, finally taking note of the other noise in the space.
