The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(26)

She stands and stretches, then tosses her trash in the dumpster a few feet away. She gets around well, and I’m thankful she seems to be in good health.

I ease up. “Let me see that scrape on your arm. Does it hurt?” Last night, she had blood on her sweatshirt, a cut she got from a lamppost she walked by.

She huffs. “Will you go away if I show it to you?”

“Swear. Let me have a peek, check it out, and I’m gone.”

She takes off her coat, pulls up her sleeve, and exposes the two-inch gash above her elbow. Dousing my hands in sanitizer, I remove the bandage I put on last night.

“Well, doc? Is it terminal?”

“You may not recover,” I deadpan.

“Knew it. I’m dying.” She places a hand over her brow and wilts.

My lips twitch. She’s in a good mood. “Let’s do more antibiotic ointment and a new covering. I bought Garfield Band-Aids.” I pat my backpack.

“Pain in my ass. Fine.” She pauses and says softly, “Thank you, Ana.”

I smile. “How was your day?”

She purses her lips. “Same. Walked to Walmart. Walked to Big Star. Some guy gave me twenty bucks and I didn’t even ask for it. Went to the park. Ate. Took a nap. Oscar chased a squirrel. You?”

“I went to class. Saw a boy.” I pause on the memory of River, my hands stopping for a moment as I work on her arm. He’s under my skin, always has been, and I don’t know what to do about it. “Went to work. Came home.”

“Is the boy nice?”

“He’s a bit of a bad boy on campus, but there’s something different about him. He likes to pretend I don’t exist, and I suspect there’s a reason why.”

She mulls that over as I help straighten her coat back around her shoulders, and she lets me. She has boundaries with people, I’ve learned. The first night I ventured into the alley to see who she was, she told me to fuck off and leave. But I know pain when I see it and couldn’t walk away. I sat down next to her and talked about books. She ignored me, refused to answer any of my questions about her, but I kept it up, and finally, on the fifth night, she was out of her tent and waiting for me. Sure, she replied in one-word answers, but she didn’t run me off. I get it. Her walls are built from self-preservation.

That way, when someone lets you down, it doesn’t hurt as much.

Been there.

Her eyes squint. “Is he handsome?”

“Crazy hot. Kind of cruel,” I murmur as I re-sanitize my hands, then pick up Oscar for snuggles. Not sure what good it does to be clean when I’m holding him. He licks my face, and I giggle.

She sips her water. “Bad boys are the devil. When I was young, that was all I wanted. I used to sing at this bar—” She abruptly stops and glares at me. “I see what you’re doing. Trying to get me to talk.”

“What was the name of the bar?”

“Never you mind.”

“Do you have any family?” I ask softly. “You know, someone who might be worried—”

“No.” She pauses, and her fingerless woolen gloves clench into fists. “I had a son, but he’s dead. Fire. They say he never woke up.”

My heart dips and tears prick in my throat. Was it her house? Is that why she’s homeless?

Oh, June. What must it feel like to be this alone? “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine.”

She grunts and looks away, frowning.

I gaze into Oscar’s big brown eyes, but my words are directed to her. “They have private rooms at the shelter for women.”

Part of me wonders if she’s been harassed at shelters before or if she really believes they put tracking devices in her head. I believe she just says that stuff because she wants me to shut up about it. But, if there are mental issues going on, she needs help I can’t give. “They serve three meals a day and have counseling services, a staff of nurses and doctors. This boy I was telling you about? His frat just donated a lot of money to one and—”

“You can go now.”

A long sigh comes from me as I set the dog down. Maybe I pushed too hard this time. “You know I’m in 3B if you need anything. My roommates are a handful, but sweet. I’ve talked to them and you’re welcome to stay on the couch until I can find you a place—”

Her voice rises. “This is my place. It’s home.”

I stand my ground. “The weather’s going to get colder. It’s December.”

“The heat from the furnace works.”

But being out here…it can’t be good for her. It just can’t. “June…”

She ducks back into her tent, and Oscar follows.

I stand there considering throwing her in my car and driving to the shelter, but I know she’d fight me the whole way, and in the end, it has to be her decision. She is her own person. I kick at a pebble, my head tumbling. She refused my offer of giving her an extra the key to the basement, which could totally get me kicked out of the building if the landlord found out, but at least it’s heated. The Walker Police Department doesn’t have any missing persons. I checked. I want to help her, want her to be okay. If I just keep coming, keep talking, keep checking on her, maybe one day—

Her head pops back out, her eyes glittering in the streetlights. “Go home, girl. Oh, and happy birthday. You’re legal. Drink one for me. Get crazy, but not too crazy. Use a condom if you do the dirty dance.”