“What’s wrong?” he said with a frown. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, I just forgot something.”
“What?”
I leaned inside, kissing him hard on the mouth for a long moment. When I pulled back, I said, “Thank you.”
I was gone, heading back to my car, before he could reply.
I called Alisha while I drove to Blane’s.
“What the hell happened?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I kind of… lost it for few minutes.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” she replied. “I’d lose it, too, if someone blew up my apartment.”
I winced at the reminder. “So what did the firemen say?”
“It was localized in your apartment,” she said, “and they managed to put it out before it spread back into your bedroom, so it’s not as bad as it looked.”
Well, that was good news. All my family photo albums were in the bedroom closet. I felt a little better. I hadn’t had a lot of personal things in my living room and kitchen, just furniture and appliances. My memories were all in the bedroom.
“Thanks for your help,” I said.
“No problem. You need someplace to stay until they repair the damage?”
I hesitated. Staying with Alisha was tempting, but I didn’t want to bring more trouble or danger into her life. “Um, that’s okay. I have a place to stay.”
“Where?”
“Um, yeah. I’m, uh, staying with Blane for now.”
Silence, then, “Are you out of your mind?” she screeched. I winced, pulling the phone slightly away from my ear. “Don’t you remember what he did? The things that piece of shit said to you—”
Alisha had been with me, had comforted me, when Blane had broken our engagement. She’d seen my heartbreak and her animosity toward Blane had reached a new high.
“It’s not what you think,” I broke in to her tirade. “We’re not getting back together. Kandi Miller—remember her?—she was murdered.”
“Oh.” Alisha’s voice betrayed surprise now. “I saw that on the news. That was her? His ex?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Geez. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” which was an absurd thing to say—it wasn’t okay, but what do you say? “So, anyway, Kade and I are staying with Blane for a little while, until after the funeral and stuff.”
“Kade and you?” she asked, disbelief edging her voice.
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that going to be a little… awkward?”
She didn’t know the half of it. The desire to tell my friend what had happened between Kade and me was strong, but I held my tongue. “Yeah, it’s been a little… tense.” Understatement of the century.
“Do you need anything?”
I smiled to myself. Alisha was a good friend, OCD and all. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for asking, though.”
“Well, just let me know,” she said.
“Thanks, I will. Tell Lewis I said hello.”
We disconnected and a few minutes later, I pulled up to Blane’s house. It was late afternoon and I thought Blane would probably be back home. Glancing down I saw that my once-white skirt was now smeared with dirt, the delicate blouse I had on was torn, and my knees were streaked with dried blood.
Lovely.
I headed inside, hoping not to encounter anyone on the way to my bedroom. A shower and change of clothes sounded good. I felt grungy and my hair smelled like smoke, which made it darn inconvenient to run into Blane in the hallway upstairs.
“Hey,” I said, trying to ignore how I looked. “How are you doing?”
Blane didn’t answer, his astonished gaze sweeping me from head to foot. “What the hell happened? I thought you were just going to class?”
I sighed, knowing I had to come clean. “I did. But then we went by my apartment, and someone had rigged a bomb.”
“We?”
“Kade and me.”
Blane glanced behind me. “Where’s Kade? Is he all right?” The anxiety in his voice was good to hear. No matter how mad he was at Kade, blood was blood.
“He’s okay. He got some burns on his back, was going to go to the hospital.”
“And you? Were you injured?” He stepped closer now, his hands running from my shoulders down my arms as he inspected me.
“No. Kade saved me. If he’d been a little slower…” I shrugged, not really wanting to finish that sentence. I felt like a cat whose nine lives were running dangerously low.
Blane turned my hand palm up and I winced, the scrapes on my skin burning.
“Come on,” he said, lightly grasping my arm. “I’ve got some salve for your scrapes.”
I expected him to take me downstairs, instead I found myself being led to his bedroom.
If it wouldn’t have looked completely and utterly childish, I’d have dug my heels into the carpet and refused to follow him. Blane’s bedroom held way too many memories, and I found all of them assailing me with the force of a wrecking ball as I walked in the door.
The room smelled strongly of Blane—his cologne, his aftershave, and just him. My step faltered and Blane glanced quizzically at me. I couldn’t look at him, not with images of him and me writhing naked on his bed streaming through my mind like a highlight reel.
He gave me a gentle push to sit me down on the bed and I immediately sprang back up.
“I can stand.” My voice was a little squeaky.
Blane’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to attack you,” he said flatly.
“It’s not that,” I protested. “It’s just—” Something I really didn’t want to say. I pressed my lips closed and resumed my seat, perching awkwardly on the very edge of the bed.
Blane looked at me for a moment, but I couldn’t read the look in his eyes, then he disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the water running and a moment later, he returned with a washcloth and a small plastic tube.
He sat beside me, taking one of my hands in his, and began gently cleaning the dirt and dried blood.
“Was your apartment destroyed?” he asked.
I focused on my hand as I answered. “Alisha said the back is okay, that just the front part was burned.”
“I’ll go talk to Gage again,” Blane offered.
“That may not be necessary,” I said. “Kade and I went by.”
The pause in Blane’s ministrations was nearly imperceptible. “I see.”
“You have enough going on right now,” I said, hoping to placate him. I didn’t need him and Kade getting into another pissing match. Time to change the subject. “Have you heard anything about the funeral?”
Blane switched to my other hand, reaching across me and moving closer. “They’re holding her body for evidence right now. I imagine the funeral will be next week sometime.”
“And they’ve cleared you, right?” I was sure the only reason Blane had been on their list was because they always went after the boyfriend, husband, or ex in these things.
Blane took a moment to respond, setting aside the washcloth and squeezing some salve into my palm. He started rubbing it in, the calluses on his fingers a gentle abrasion against my skin.
“No, they haven’t.”
I jerked my gaze to his, but he was looking down at our hands. “What do you mean, ‘they haven’t’?”
“They have an eyewitness who says I was there that night,” he said.
He seemed so calm, in stark contrast to the sheer panic flooding me. I fisted my hand, clutching his fingers, and he finally looked up at me.