“Storm!” I scream.
Finally the wall of bouncers breaks apart. Ben guides me through with a hand on my back to find Storm huddled awkwardly on the floor, her limbs folded into themselves. A pang of alarm stabs me. She looks so much like Jenny did in the car.
I dive to her side.
“Oh, Kacey!” she cries and throws herself on my shoulder. “All I could think of was Mia.”
I’m shaking. “You’re alive. You’re alive. Thank God you’re alive,” I mumble over and over as my hands grope her arms, her neck, her shoulders. No blood. No wounds.
“I’m okay, Kacey. I’m okay.” Her cheeks are red and tear-stained, her makeup smeared all over her face, but she’s smiling now.
“Yes,” I confirm, swallowing the painful ball in my throat. “You’re not going to die. You’re okay. I haven’t lost you.” I’m too close to Storm. Too close to getting hurt like I did when I lost Jenny. An avalanche of memories crushes any semblance of relief I should feel right now. Suddenly, I’m trapped in the past, with a best friend who I’d known since we were two, who shared days and nights filled with laughter and tears, anger and excitement. An acute ache blossoms in my chest as I realize they’re all the memories I hope to create with Storm too.
All the things that man just tried to steal from me.
With a hint of trepidation, Storm reaches forward and takes my hand in hers. I hadn’t breathed since I leapt over the bar. Now I let the air out of my lungs. And something snaps inside me. I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it’s like the little needle on my moral compass breaks in half.
As if a hate bomb detonates inside me.
He tried to steal my second chance from me. He needs to pay.
Fluorescent lights now shine down over the inside of Penny’s, casting an unpleasant glow over the spilled drinks, empty bottles and garbage as bouncers usher patrons out. I catch Nate’s broad shoulders as he rounds the corner toward the back exit, the guy still within his grip. My teeth crack against each other.
I’m faintly aware of Trent standing near the front entrance. He’s pointing toward the stage and arguing with a bouncer to let him pass. My attention lingers over him for a split second, but nothing really registers, driven back to the hall where that vile creature, the one who tried to rob me of my new life, left.
I’m up and running.
I’m shoving grown men out of the way as I tear down the hall after Nate. I round a corner in time to see his enormous frame pass through the back door. As I speed to catch up, my heart beat racing, blood rushing to my head, I sense my hand grab an empty glass bottle sitting on a crate. Without a distinct thought or message to my body, my hand smashes it against the wall, sending shards of glass flying.
My fist squeezes the neck tightly, imagining how sharp the broken edges must be.
How effective they must be.
When I plow through the back door, I find Storm’s attacker standing in the parking lot. Alone.
Perfect.
Without uttering a sound, I charge forward, my arm drawing behind my back as I ready my aim. The weasel turns to see me and his beady little eyes widen. Six feet, five feet, four feet … My arm is just about to catapult around to plunge the broken glass deep into his chest, to let him physically feel the level of pain I would have had to face had he been successful in his attack, when two giant trunks sweep in and lift me off the ground, securing my arms tight against me.
“No!” I scream. Now I’m kicking and screaming with everything I’m made of. My teeth clamp down on Nate’s arms and sink in, tasting copper. He grunts, but doesn’t stop, carrying me back inside the doorway. He drops me on the ground and leans forward to meet me eye to eye, his hands still securing my arms.
“Let the police take care of it, Kacey!” The rumble in his voice vibrates through me.
“Police?” I frown and peer out past him. The Weasel isn’t alone. Four cruisers with flashing lights line the parking lot and a dozen officers mill about, scratching notes down as witnesses recount the scene of events. Somehow I hadn’t seen them.
“Ohmigod.” I stumble back, vomit rising into my throat, the bottle slipping from my fingers to tumble to the floor as I clutch my middle.
“I got you before they saw what you were about to do. No one saw anything and if they did, they’ll let it go,” Nate promises, his dark gaze searing deep into my face as if looking for something. For a demon, lurking, perhaps.
“Kacey!” A breathless Trent yells as he catches up with me. I’m hyperventilating by this point, my chest heaving like I’m fighting for my last breath. The one I can never seem to catch. His attention falls to the broken bottle lying by my feet. “God, Kacey. What were you about to do?”
I’m swallowing and struggling for air and shaking my head and trembling all at the same time. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know,” I mutter over and over again. But I know. I know what I almost did.
I almost killed a man.
***
Street lights pass by all at once and not at all as Dan drives us home in his police car. I know Trent is somewhere behind us on his bike and all I can think of is the look of horror on his face. What were you about to do? he asked. And he knew. No doubt he knew.
Storm helps me out of the car as if it were me attacked, not her. How is she acting so normal?
One step forward. One step forward. One step forward.
“Kacey, I’m okay. I promise,” I vaguely hear Storm say as she leads me hand in hand toward the apartment.
I know she’s fine and I’m thankful. But I’m struggling. I’m fighting to keep myself from crumbling into pieces on the sidewalk.
I almost killed a man tonight.
Aunt Darla’s counselors were right all along … One step forward. One step forward. One step—
Fingers snap in front of my face and break my trance. I look over to see an ocean of worry in Storm’s blue eyes. “I think she’s in shock,” she says to someone else, clearly not me.
“No, good. I’m good. Good,” I mumble and suddenly I’m grasping for Storm’s biceps and squeezing, panic surging. “Don’t tell Livie. Please?” She can’t find out what I almost did.
Storm nods. I see her exchange worried looks with Trent and Dan.
“Come on.” The ground disappears as a set of strong arms scoops me up. In seconds Trent has me laying on my bed and he’s pulling the covers over me.
“No, I’m not tired,” I mumble, struggling weakly to get up.
“Just … rest. Please?” Trent says softly. His hand smooths over my cheek and I grab it, holding it tight, pressing my lips against his palm.
“Stay.” I hear the desperation in my voice.
“Of course, Kacey,” he whispers. He kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed next to me.
I close my eyes and nuzzle in his chest, reveling in the warmth of his body, the pound of his heartbeat, the smell of him. “You hate me, don’t you? You must hate me. I can’t help it. I’m broken.”
Trent squeezes me close to him. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. Give me your heart, Kacey. I’ll take everything that comes with it.”
I start to cry. Uncontrollably, for the first time in four years.
***
“Pull my finger.”
Jenny giggles hysterically. She giggles every time Billy says that.
And I roll my eyes, just like I do every time he says that. “So hot, Billy. Take me now.”
“Kacey,” my mother admonishes, overhearing me.
Billy winks and squeezes my hand tight and I squeeze back. Mom and Dad are in the front, talking about next week’s game and how I need to get my license soon so they don’t have to cart my ass around anymore. Of course I know they’re joking. They’d never miss one of my rugby games.