Instead, I release her and decide to go with honesty. “I went through your phone and called your friend, Kerri. Then I had Wraith and Malice go to your place to grab some of your stuff and bring it here while Jamie and the Tribe cleaned the house.” I give her a sheepish shrug. “I wanted it nice for you.”
She stiffens, opens her mouth as if she wants to give me hell, but her shoulders relax. “And you figured I’d be mad at the invasion of my privacy.”
“Faith, you’re mad at me because I have the audacity to breathe, so yeah, I assumed you’d be a bit miffed.”
She punches me in the arm. “You’re such an ass. But I’m glad you called Kerri, and I appreciate how everyone went out of their way for me.” She shuffles across the kitchen and rummages through her bag as if she’s taking inventory. “And I’m not mad at you for breathing. I’m mad at you for breaking my heart.”
If Faith pulled a gun out of that backpack and shot me point-blank in the chest, I doubt it would hurt half as much as the impact of those words. “Kerri said the bag is important to you, so I made sure Wraith brought it.”
I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe, wanting to absorb her pain at the cringe when she lifts her arms. I haven’t felt this powerless since the night we rolled up to Blessed Souls Crematorium and I got my first look at Wraith after he’d been in Gomorrah’s dungeon. The worst part of that whole situation? The helplessness that came after. Having to wait to take revenge on David Crane.
Now here I am, once more playing that same hurry-up-and-wait game.
Patience has never been one of my virtues.
She stops searching through the bag and directs her sluggish stare at me. “Thank you.”
“For you, my Fizzle, anything.”
“Jester…” Her sentence trails off, and I push off the doorframe to sidle up next to Faith. I open the cabinet, which is packed with diabetic supplies and organized down to the smallest detail. Jamie also left Faith a note, complete with a smiley face. “You had them do this?”
I smooth a hand over her tangled hair to get it out of her face. “All I did was tell them to bring your stuff. The rest was all Jamie.”
She sways on her feet. Her eyes are hooded, and she looks like she’s about to drop. “Remind me to thank her in case I forget.”
“You’re not the type who’ll forget.” I close the cabinet door and grip her shoulders. “Come on. I’ll help you with that shower.”
“You wish, asshole.”
“So feisty.” I steer her out of the kitchen. “But for once, can you not think the worst of me?”
“You’re asking for a miracle, but I’ll try.” She trips up the first step, but I catch her as I help her up the stairs. “I’m loopy,” she says as if she needs to explain herself.
“No shit.”
“I’m still perfectly able to shower by myself.” When we reach the landing, she stops and turns, and for a second, I expect her to push me backward and end my life right here. I even fight a flinch when she reaches out a shaking hand and presses her clammy palm against my cheek. “It’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“That you’re not Luke anymore.”
I lean into her touch, a ghost of a smile tugging at my mouth. “I’ll be anyone you want, Faith.”
She shakes her head. The movement nearly knocks her off-balance. When she grabs my arm to steady herself, she curls her lip in a nasty sneer. “No, I hate him. I think I like Jester better, even though you’re an asshole who embarrassed me in front of Matthew.”
“You couldn’t give a shit less about Matthew.”
Why the sudden need to gargle with mouthwash after saying his name?
Her eyes narrow, and she smirks at me. “I won’t apologize for what I did to your Jeep.”
“You better not.” I run my knuckles down her right cheek. “It’s a goddamn masterpiece.”
There’s that snort again. She rumples my hair. Rumples it. Like we’re besties or something. “What am I going to do with you?”
Forgive me.
“That’s a loaded question, Fizzle.”
