Page 22

Tess
The kitten is a female.Filthy. Crusty eyes. Enormous head stuck onto a scrawny, flea-ridden body. I dug around in the kitchen, looking for something to feed it when I got home. All I came up with was a can of beef stew and a can of evaporated milk. I cracked the can of milk and poured some onto a plate and watched her lap it up like she was starving.
Afterward, I took her into the bathroom ran a shallow puddle of warm water into the sink. I expected a fight but she let me bathe her, letting out little mewling sounds when I scrubbed her ears. Gently cleaned her eyes with a washcloth. Opening my dad’s drawer, I start rifling through it. Looking for something to trim the thicker pieces of gunk off, I feel my fingertips brush against something cool and smooth and I yank back, my fingers curled into a fist and clenched into a fist, over my hammering heart.
My father’s straight razor.
He kept it.
Probably because getting rid of it would be like admitting the truth. That his wife didn’t die unexpectedly. That she didn’t die of natural causes.
That she left us on purpose.
That she killed herself.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, staring into the open drawer, my heart pounding in my throat. Long enough that the kitten in the sink starts yowling and clambering at the sides of it trying to get out.
Slamming the drawer, I snatch a towel off the bar before lifting the soaking wet kitten from the sink. Squeezing it dry, I set it on the counter and plug in the hairdryer. Setting it to low, I aim it at the kitten, letting the warm air dry and fluff her fur. When she’s clean and dry, I carry her into my room and set her on my bed while I get ready for bed. By the time I crawl in beside her she’s asleep and I’m not far behind.
When I sleep, I dream about my mom.
“Tess,someone is here to see you.”
My dad’s voice rings across the garage, the sound of it pulling my head up fast enough to cramp my neck. If it was Henley he wouldn’t bother announcing her. She’s like family. She’s also the only person who ever comes around looking for me.
Except Declan.
He came looking for me last night.
Straightening from my stoop, I reach for the bandana I keep tucked into my back pocket. Deeming it sufficiently clean, I scrub at my face, trying to get as much grime and engine dust off of it as I can. It’s late afternoon, I’ve been working non-stop for almost ten hours. Even without the benefit of a mirror, I know I’m covered in it.
What the hell are you doing? This isDeclan Gilroy. He’s an asshole. Who cares what he thinks?
I do.
The realization has me shoving my bandana back into my pocket and stepping out from behind the car I’m working on, intent on telling him what I told him last night.
To leave me the hell alone.
But it’s not Declan standing in the doorway.
It’s Ryan, Henley’s older brother.
He’s got his hands dug into his pockets and he keeps shooting my dad nervous glances while my dad glares at him from his workbench where he’s fucking around with a fuel pump.
“Jesus,” I mutter, tossing my wrench into my toolbox before slamming the hood of the car. It’s my last for the day and I’m finally finished. Scooping the kitten out of the box I’ve got her stashed in, I head for the door. Passing Ryan without stopping, I walk in the shadow of the building and round the corner. The only indication that he’s following me is the shadow he casts along the wall.
There’s a grassy spot where the sidewalk is broken and I set the kitten on it so she can do her business. “If you’re worried about me saying something about last night or if Declan sent you here to warn me or whatever—”
“What’s going on with Hen and Conner?”
The question snaps my head up, sending another twinge down the side of my neck. “Going on?” I act like I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”
He looks at me for a few seconds, his expression hard. Jaw stiff. “Quit dicking with me, Tess.” Aside from his deep brown eyes, he doesn’t look anything like Henley. No freckles. No bright orange hair. You can’t even tell it’s red unless the sun is shining on it like it is now. I’ve heard girls at school talk about him. How good-looking he is. I’ve never really noticed. He’s Henley’s big brother. That practically makes him family. The ick factor is pretty high. “He’s been weirder than usual for months—always spending time with her. Not wanting to party. He hasn’t hooked up with anyone in months.”
“It’s weird that you’ve noticed that,” I tell him. “You know that, right?”
“Not really.” He shakes his head. “Con is on a different level. He couldn’t keep his dick to himself if his life depended on it and he’s never been shy about who, how or when.” He swipes a hand over his face, leaving behind a disgusted grimace. “When I came home last night she was crying and I think he’d be there. I think—” He stops talking, like the words are caught in his throat.