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It’s the last thing I want to do. Leaving here without having a chance to at least say goodbye to Kait will kill me but this is important. Even though I’m not the one who hit him, I feel responsible for what happened to Brian Maxwell. Maybe if I’d been there, maybe if I’d been the one driving instead of Lexi, none of this would’ve happened. Brian Maxwell wouldn’t be fighting for his life after falling asleep on a public bus bench.
No sooner do I hit send does my phone start to vibrate, Lexi’s cell number flashing across the screen. Sending her directly to voicemail, I read Conner’s reply.
Con: No. just stay where you are. I’ve got everything under control.
Anyone else I’d doubt, but not Con. If he says it’s under control, then it is.
Me: Okay—Lexi’s calling me.
Con: Good. Let it go to voicemail. Maybe she’ll fuck up and say something incriminating.
Con: Just sit tight. Another week and this whole thing will be over.
Me: thanks.
I forward Lexi’s voicemail to Con without listening to it before turning off my phone and throwing it in the drawer of my nightstand where it’ll wait for me until tomorrow morning to complete task #1 on my see, I’m not obsessed with Kaitlyn Barrett checklist.
Completing task #2, I get dressed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white muscle shirt. Grabbing my Sox cap and my runners, I make my way downstairs to get task #3 out of the way because the sooner I get through the list, the sooner I can spend the rest of my day with Kait. Bringing her to life—at least my version of her—and trapping her on paper.
It's nowhere near good enough but in a way its better because at least I can make this version of her stay. I can take this version of her with me when I leave.
Don’t think about it.
You’ve still got time.
Time for what I have no idea, but—
I’m halfway down the stairs when the smell hits me.
Coffee—but beneath the rich, heavy aroma of it, I catch the scent of something else. Something that launches my heart into my throat. Ties my feet together and nearly pitches me headfirst down the stairs.
Kait.
Finding my feet, I manage to make it to the bottom of them without breaking my neck. And then I just stand there, pulse thundering in my ears, and look at her.
Breathe her in.
She’s sitting at the kitchen island, exactly where I found her that first time a few weeks ago, the laptop I bought her open in front of her, her gaze settled and intent on its screen. The knot Morris planted on her forehead is hardly noticeable and the black eye is little more than a shadow. Coffee mug next to a plate holding a half-eaten cinnamon roll, notebooks and textbooks stacked on the counter within easy reach. Earbuds jammed into her ears in an effort to avoid distraction.
There’s time.
I’ve still got time.
Crossing the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee and take more time than necessary choosing a cinnamon roll from the pile plated next to the coffee machine. After adding a splash of half and half, I turn back around, half expecting her to be gone but she isn’t.
Kaitlyn’s still here.
Hips leaned against the counter, I eat my cinnamon rolls slowly, measuring out sips of coffee between bites while I study her. Commit the picture of her to memory so I can draw her later. Because we both know she shouldn’t be here and I’m afraid that any moment now, she’s going to remember that and leave again.
Taking another careful bite of my pastry, I watch while she begins to squirm in her seat, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Gaze still aimed at her laptop screen, she sighs.
“I thought we agreed that if I came back, there’d be no more staring,” She says while she lifts the pen in her hand and writes something in the notebook next to the laptop. Not the blue one. I still have the blue one. I kept it. She left it here when Damien and her sister came for her on Saturday morning. Rather than give it to her, I kept it. It’s in my portfolio, hidden under my sketch book.
She’s right.
We did agree that I’d stop staring at her.
Shoving the last of my cinnamon roll in my mouth, I finish it quickly. Wiping my hands clean on a kitchen towel, I grab my hat before crossing the space between us. Rounding the island, I stop in front of her stool and turn her, swiveling the seat so that she’s facing me. Tossing my cap on top of her keyboard, I reach up to pull her earbuds free.