Luckily, I have jeans on, but the jagged rocks I’d meant to sweep up from the last storm didn’t seem to find denim a problem.
“Fucking hell!” I curse, hissing as I drag myself up.
The palms of my hands sting from trying to break my fall, but I get up, still clutching my car keys.
Unlocking the door, I dive into the safety of my home, slamming the door shut behind me.
Dropping my bag to the side, I peel off my jeans to examine the damage to my leg, wincing as I do.
Why am I so clumsy?
The skin isn’t punctured, but the dark bruising tells me it’s going to hurt like hell for a few days.
Heading for the shower, I catch sight of myself in my hallway mirror, looking like a freaking scarecrow.
Nice one, Sierra.
I quickly shower and braid my hair, so it doesn’t look as bad as it is, then get dressed.
I want to eat something before I leave, but I don’t think I have time.
My stomach rumbles, telling me to make time.
Fuck it.
Tugging out a pot of instant noodles, I flip the kettle on as I hunt for my phone to check the time.
It’s ringing.
Kiki.
“Hey,” I greet her, balancing the phone under my ear as I pour hot water onto the noodles.
There’s a sound of sobbing, and I place the kettle down, my heart skipping a beat. “Kiki?”
“That bastard.”
My blood runs cold at her voice, scratchy and raw from crying, her emotions creating their own sound.
Heartbreak does that to a girl.
“What? Who?”
Kiki lets out a sob before snapping at me with frustration.
“Greg! Who else?!”
Ouch, Kiki is angry.
Fuming.
Immediately, so am I.
“I’m on my way over; please tell me you’re in,” Kiki whispers desperately, and my soul aches for her.
“I’m in.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
