"'Morning, Kiddo," Simon yawns as he traverses the Sink, tying his apron around his front as he goes.
The day officially commences. The doors open to reveal the first wave of patrons.
Reality punches me in the chest when the last person I want meet limps up to the bar. Beaten and looking fairly shaken, is Kai.
I stumble back in a surge of shame.
"You told me you weren't contracted," he accuses as I stare at my hands.
"You never told me if you were," I throw back at him. Despite being the most pathetic phrase I've ever said, frantic adrenaline drags me forward. "For all I know, you're just as contracted as I am."
Yes. This is a stupid comeback. I hear it as soon as the words swivel through the air between us. Obviously, it wasn't he who was dragged away and coerced to be with someone else.
"I don't get my partner until later this year. You know how it works. I'm such an idiot. . . Of course, you're contracted." He shakes his head, his dark hair hanging in loose drawstrings over his eyes.
"If it makes any difference, I'm sorry."
"Tell that to my thirty-six stitches and third-degree burns."
With steady control, I compel myself to look at him. To see the damage I've caused. I can't do it. I catch the semi-dried blood stains on his linen shirt before averting my gaze to the floor.
"I knew it was too good to be true," he whispers.
Simon emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a white cloth. "Nika, if Mitch comes by today, tell him I'm done with his cheese deals, I—" His eyes rake over Kai's bruised face, my hunched back, and my lowered eyes.
In seconds, my dad has come to the right conclusion. He drops his hands to his sides as he heads back into the kitchen. Before he disappears behind the doors, he quietly waves me over.
How the hell is Simon, a man who has fumbled through a myriad of parenting missteps in his unplanned fathering career, going to handle this little gem?
As soon as we're behind the swinging doors he circles his four-fingered hand around my arm and pulls me toward him in a tight, lung-crushing embrace. He pats my back and squeezes me tighter, holding my head closer to his. I melt into his warmth and the smell of the kitchen, two sensory comforts I'm well acquainted with.
"I'm so sorry, Honey," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm so unbelievably sorry."
"It's fine," I say reassuringly into his shirt. I hope I sound confident through my petrified chattering. I'm a little girl again—a tiny punk with a lopsided ponytail and a pair of slate-gray overalls. I'm collapsing back into his little girl, and I let myself be scared and lost again as he holds me up.
"When you didn't come home last night, I didn't think anything of it. I knew you must have been out, but I didn't know . . . I would have . . ."
"Oh, no, please. I would have died knowing you were watching, too."
When I'm pressed against his chest like this, I can hear his sigh choke on a growl.
I reassure him. "It's done, though. I don't need to worry about that again for a while," I reassure myself.
"I hate to ask, but how's Dean?"
"Fine, I guess."
"Who's the kid outside?"
"Reprieve."
He laughs a little and holds me at arm's length to squeeze my shoulders one last time. His fingers wrap themselves precariously close to the bruises from the Maroon Coat's strong grip from the night before.
Dean's hands were there too last night. It was a similar grip, but a strong and gentle one. It fooled me into believing I could trust him again.
But as much churning blame as I have for Dean, there is nothing except red-hot loathing for those bastards in the Maroon Coats. No amount of anger toward Dean could even come close to the absolute hatred I have for those wielding their petri dishes and jerking off behind the window.
"Can I make you something?"
I shake my head ruefully and return the squeeze on his arms.
I squeeze his arms to let him know I'm okay, and I will move forward.
I squeeze his arms to let him know I got this.
I have one wish—the total immolation of the HHP.
Hand me a lead pipe and an hour alone in the lab. That might perk me up a bit.
"I should probably go talk to him," I say, heading back toward the door. He smiles briefly and brings my face close to kiss me right on the forehead.
When I enter the bar area again, Kai is gone.
I breathe a small sigh of relief.
My PAHLM vibrates.
[Incoming Message: PHAYOMO]
MY OFFICE -- NOW