I grabbed her hands and looked at her. “I saw him, but we didn’t get to talk because some stupid demons were flying over . . . and . . .”
I wanted to cry. I needed to cry. My eyes and throat burned, but I couldn’t get the tears to come. Instead, all I could do was gulp tiny gasps of air. Patti’s wide eyes went to the door.
“Did they see you two?”
I shook my head and she pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. “Shh, it’s okay, sweet girl. You got to see each other. And that’s a blessing, right? Let’s just say I gave him a hug big enough for the both of us.”
I squeezed her harder, so glad she’d been able to pour some love into him on this stupid day of hearts and flowers, even if just for a minute.
“You better get ready for your self-defense class,” she murmured into my hair.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Your daddy will have a conniption if you miss your class. Maybe it’ll help you get your mind off everything.”
I sniffed, doubtful. “Maybe.”
It didn’t help get my mind off anything. Being there, grappling with my instructor and having my face smashed into the mat for the third time in ten minutes, only reminded me why I had to learn to fight in the first place.
Paul, a middle-aged ex-FBI sniper and hand-combat instructor, rocked back on his heels and shook his head at me.
“You sick or something?”
I pushed to my feet. “No. Sorry. Just distracted.”
“Why? Valentine’s Day?” He punched my shoulder and grinned. I had a feeling Paul was one of those freaky people who could kill someone with a pinch to a pressure point, but he was such a doting family man that you’d never know if you weren’t aware of his past jobs.
I rolled my eyes at him and said, “I had a bad day.”
“Go ahead.” He pointed to his chin. “Hit me as hard as you can. It’ll make you feel better.”
“No way.”
He laughed at me, but I wasn’t feeling playful. Paul had been trying to get me to punch him in the face for the past year. I used to think he was joking, but now I knew he was serious, which was beyond weird to me. He wasn’t afraid of pain or bruises, but I just couldn’t do it.
“All right, fine,” he said. “Enough mat work. Grab your knives and let’s practice running throws.”
I held back a groan. I sucked at throwing while in motion.
My phone beeped with a text and I ran over to check it, despite Paul’s glare. It was Veronica.
Party @ Will’s. Come w/me?
It was a Thursday night. If she was trying to go out on Valentine’s Day, and not mentioning Jay, then they must have been fighting. I nearly texted her back no, but then the thought of an ice-cold drink in my hand hit me with a stampede of tingles.
I’ll b there, I texted back.
I went back to an impatient Paul, who stood with his muscled arms crossed, ready to run me ragged.
I only hit the target twice. Twice out of, like, a million runs, turns, and throws. I was so tired of Paul yelling instructions that I almost took him up on the offer to punch him in the face. I’d never been so glad for a training session to end.
I didn’t bother looking at my watch to see when I was starting my first drink. I tilted up the beer bottle and chugged with the full intention of getting drunk. Veronica’s eyes bugged out.
“Holy hell,” she said.
“Hell is not holy. Trust me.” I tossed my bottle and popped the top off another.
“Dang, someone’s pissy tonight,” Veronica said.
The first beer warmed my insides and I leaned against Veronica.
“I guess we both had a bad day, huh?” I asked her.
“Yep.” She tried to chug her beer but had to stop halfway through. “How do you do that? Beer is so nasty.”
Yeah, it was. I clinked mine to hers. “Let’s just have fun tonight, ’kay?”
“That’s what I’m talking about, girl.”
We clinked bottles again and I hollered across the room to Will, “Can we get some music in here?”
Everyone cheered.
Oh, boy.
Not good.
I couldn’t recall all the details, but it went something like this: We drank a little. Okay, a lot. Veronica started complaining about Jay and we got in a fight. Then I heard she was sick in the bathroom, so I pushed my way in to take care of her. We ended up on the porch, crying and hugging, Veronica puking one last time in the driveway, until Jay showed up to take us both home at midnight.
Ugh.
Patti didn’t say anything when I stumbled in, reeking like a brewery. She only looked relieved that I was home alive, and I felt guilty because I’d drunk way more than I should have even though there were no whisperers there. She pitied me for having to work, but I hadn’t been working. I’d just been partying.
I went to my room and flopped on my bed. The day weighed heavily on me. I wanted to cry or scream, but I couldn’t do either. I knew I should go to sleep, but I was wired and restless.
I pulled out my phone and called Marna. She answered right away.
“It’s five thirty a.m.”
“Sorry! I need Blake’s number,” I blurted.