Kit

by S. M. West

  We’d been near strangers after our breakup. While devastating, it wasn’t hard to avoid him given our worlds didn’t intersect because Nick, too, pulled away because of his work.

  I was in med school and then a doctor, whereas he ran with dangerous criminals, hanging out in places I can’t even imagine. Nick rarely saw me, and Kit made it a point to be around as little as possible.

  Things changed when Maggie came into our lives, almost two years ago now. At the same time, Nick decided he was leaving his life of crime and going straight. He’d had enough and Kit decided to do the same, even if his decision was more out of circumstance than a conscious choice.

  Kit tried to reconnect with me then. More as friends than anything else, and it made sense. He started working with Maggie at her garage, and Nick and I were starting Léa’s Home.

  Our reunion could have been easy, seamless even, and all I had to do was accept it. But…I couldn’t. It was too hard to have him back in my life and not worry that he’d unknowingly break my heart all over again.

  I couldn’t handle the thought of him disappointing me, going back to a life of danger and crime. Or if he was happy with someone else… I just couldn’t. So I pushed him away, told him to stay out of my life. And he did, until today.

  Was it selfish of me? Definitely. Smart? No way.

  Just then, a muted buzzing in my pocket reminds me I need to call Nick, and I fumble to pull it out, hoping it’s Elliot.

  Long jagged streaks, much like that of a spider’s web, crawl along the screen of my phone. My fall, face first onto the ground, must have damaged the screen.

  “Hey, Willow, I was going to call you.” I try to inject a smile in my voice, disappointed it isn’t Nick or Elliot.

  “Caro. Thank goodness. Are you okay?” She’s frenzied and concerned. “I heard what happened to the clinic. Were you there?”

  “Yes, I was there but I’m okay. How did you find out?” I put the phone on speaker while I remove my jacket.

  “A Detective Holman came to my house tonight, and I got a call from one of the board of directors. The police had called them too as their name is on the lease.”

  “Willow, I’m sorry. I was going to call you. We just got back from the hospit—”

  “No, no. Don’t worry about me. I’m worried about you. Tell me what happened.”

  I tell her everything, holding nothing back. I trust Willow. While our relationship is mostly professional, we’ve worked side by side in some tense situations, like the one today with those men—was that only today? And we’re friends.

  “Caro, I can’t even…and Elliot’s text, do you think he set that timer to go off?”

  “Yes. It looks that way. I only wish he’d text me again, or call. What did Holman ask you?”

  “He wanted to know about my job, about anything unusual, and so I told him about the two guys. Then he asked for details on the clinic staff, and I told him he’d have to go through the board of directors for those details. Then he had a lot of questions about you and someone named Kit Jensen.”

  “Okay. Kit’s an old friend and was with me tonight.” Maybe Kit was right and Holman does think he’s more involved than he is. This isn’t good. We don’t need the added trouble of the police looking at us like we’re guilty of something.

  I take the phone off speaker, putting it to my ear. “I’m going to have to call the board.”

  Just the thought of the phone calls—yes, multiple calls because telling only one member, the chairman, wouldn’t suffice—exhausts me further. Almost all of them will want to be told personally. All those egos.

  While the walk-in clinic feels like it’s mine, since I’ve been there since it opened and give so much of my time and self to the care of the patients, it isn’t.

  Health care in Ontario is publicly funded, and the Jane Walk-in Clinic is owned by a private business with a board of directors who we answer to. They lease the space, and they are responsible for the insurance and all the employees.

  “No, I’ve got it covered. And I also called all the staff to tell them about the clinic. They know not to go in tomorrow morning. And they’ll be contacted by someone in administration once the board gets things rolling for insurance and all that.”

  “Thank you. You’re amazing.” Some of the tension in my neck diminishes, grateful for Willow but also worried about all she’ll have to deal with. “How did the staff take it?”

  “You know, most of them were shocked, worried about you, but they all go with the flow. They’ll be placed at another location soon so they don’t have to worry about their jobs.”

  It’s true, and that includes me. I’m saddened for the neighborhood and the future of the clinic—who knows how far they may have to travel for medical care? But none of that is within my control. I’m an employee and out of a job right now. Maybe this is a sign to focus solely on the Home and finally let my second job, working at the clinic, go.

  “You need to take care of yourself and let me know how I can help,” Willow cuts through my thoughts.

  My phone buzzes and I check who is calling. “Willow, I have to go. It’s Nick on the other line. I need to speak to him.”

  “Of course. Take care of yourself and talk soon.”

  “Thanks. Night.” I click to the other call, feeling almost as bad as when I was flat out on the concrete after the blast.

  How am I going to tell Nick the Home might be next? The possibility is slim, and I hope with all that is good in this world nothing will happen, but what if the implied threat of those texts is to destroy anything important to me?

  Kit

  I screwed up big time. Sally is here, staring up at me expectantly, wanting every detail about what happened to me tonight, and I can’t tell her a lot. She isn’t supposed to even know what’s going on.

  While it’s unlikely—I was watching—we could have been followed back to my place, and if so, Sally can’t be seen with me. That’s the last thing I want, to put more people in danger.

  At the hospital, in the wake of Holman’s interview and my haste to keep Nick informed, I didn’t realize I was still in the text window with Sally. I told her about the clinic explosion.

  Dammit, and now she’s here.

  I’ve known Sally for as long as I’ve worked at the garage, and while she’s flirted, I had no intentions of making a move. Then two months ago, she asked me out.

  At first, I declined, stuttering and blushing like a damn virgin. I’d been caught off guard and truth be told, not interested, but I didn’t know how to say so without hurting her feelings. So, I agreed to coffee.

  Yes, I’ve been with women since Caro, but not many, and even though I don’t do one-night stands, none had been anything more than casual. The smart and gorgeous doctor was still deeply entrenched in my heart and mind, and despite how long it had been, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Now with Caro back, even if this situation is temporary, this thing with Sally isn’t going anywhere.

  “How do you feel?” She’s close and concerned, and her proximity makes me uncomfortable.

  “I’m okay. I was checked out at the hospital and there’s nothing a little rest won’t cure.”

  She grabs a hand and turns it palm up to reveal my bandage. “Oh my, Kit, what happened?”

  “Yeah, there was an explosion and I was a little too close. These will heal.” I pull my hand from her grasp, holding each one up to her before dropping them to my side. “I don’t know much else. The police are investigating it.”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. And you’re okay to be at home? Or did you leave?” She arches a brown brow, not to question but more matter-of-fact.

  I smirk and shake my head. “Ah, no. The doctor released me.”

  We aren’t close in the relationship sense—we’re only just getting to know each other that way—but we’re friends. I’ve hung out with the crew from the garage at her diner almost every day for the past two years. She knows enough about me to sug
gest I’d challenge the doctor’s orders if I wanted.

  “Please don’t put on a brave face for me. You’d tell me if you were really hurt, wouldn’t you?” Pale eyes search my face, looking for something. Maybe a sign I’m being truthful?

  “Yes, I’d tell you, and I promise, I’m fine. Really.”

  She nods. “Okay, but if you need me to stay tonight, just in case, I can crash on your couch.”

  “No, that—”

  “And before you shut me down, this isn’t my way of making a move on you.” There’s a sly twinkle in her eye, more in jest than intent. “I want to help, make sure you’re fine.”

  “Thank you.” I grab one of her small hands and squeeze. “I appreciate it, but I am fine. I don’t need someone to check on me and I won’t be alone.” The words jam in my throat as I force my jaw shut and release her hand.

  I want to tell her about Caro, call this whole thing off between us, but now doesn’t feel right. She’s been jerked around enough tonight, first with me rescheduling our dinner, then standing her up and now this.

  Honesty is important to me, and I will tell her this isn’t going to work, just not right now.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. I got a call from a good friend asking me to do a favor for him and it was urgent.” Sally knows Nick so I could mention him, but the less she knows, the better. “I should have cancelled our dinner. I thought I’d be quick, but as you can tell, that wasn’t the case. I messed up your evening.”

  “No. No.” She leans against the wall opposite me, sliding her hands into her coat pockets. “It’s fine. If you wanted to call off our date, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble with an explosion to get me to back off.”

  She’s teasing but there’s something in her tone, a slight edge that suggests she senses there’s more here. It’s as if she’s read my mind and knows we’re over before we began and she’s taking it in stride.

  “Nah, I’d have just said so. I was looking forward to dinner…”

  “And now?” She cocks her head to one side, trying to appear casual, but her shoulders rise as if bracing herself for my response.

  “Now, I need some rest.” I inch closer to my door. “Sally, thanks for coming by and for your concern. It means a lot.”

  I lean on the frame of my door, and she pushes from the wall, now several feet from me. “Do I get a raincheck on dinner?”

  “Let’s leave things the way they are for now.” The downward curve at the corner of her lips, subtle but there, causes me to pause. I’m a shit. “I promise to call and we can talk some more.”

  Now she nods, forcing a small, artificial smile. “Yeah, sounds good. Good night, Kit, and take care of yourself.”

  “Night, Sally.” I turn the knob and she walks briskly to the elevator.

  I wait until the doors open, and when she’s in, now facing me, she calls, “And please call me if you need anything. I mean that.” The doors close.

  Regret is a cold, hard stone in the pit of my gut. I should never have agreed to dating her. As much as I try to move on from Caro, all it takes is a few hours with her, even with bombs, cops, and bruises to show for it, and I’m back where I started.

  “Hi, Nick.” Caro’s voice is tense and a little wobbly.

  “Caro. Holy shit, you were supposed to call or text me after you checked out the clinic.” Nick’s on speaker as I slip into the loft. “I tried Kit but nothing. Did the asshole even come by?” He’s incensed and Caro frowns, not knowing about the text mix-up.

  “I thought I had texted you but there was a mix-up. Sorry.” I stroll up to Caro, standing in the middle of the room. Has she not moved since entering my place?

  “Oh.” Her gaze lands on me, both puzzled and relieved. We stare at each other and my concern for her grows; she’s as white as snow with black circles under her eyes.

  “Would someone tell me what the fuck happened?” Nick’s bellow breaks our trance.

  Caro bites her now trembling bottom lip and she needn’t say anything. This is hard for her, and the events of tonight are more than taking their toll. I guide her to the couch while I take Nick through the events of the night.

  The recounting is slow going and painful. Nick interrupts me every three words with some kind of outburst, either to curse, fire a question at me like a drill sergeant, or do both.

  “Hang on, you triggered a bomb and the fucking clinic blew to smithereens?” Nick is speechless for the first time since we started this conversation, and I want to relish the silence, catch my breath, and organize my thoughts, but the stillness doesn’t last for long.

  “Yes.” Caro is the first to speak. “We’re fine but there was an explosion. The clinic is gone.” She swallows hard and with difficulty, as if the words grow tenfold in her throat.

  Tears spring to her eyes and she clutches my hand, keeping me at her side. “Kit saved my life.”

  Air whooshes from my lungs, heart cracking at the agony she’s in. I wrap an arm around her and she’s now rambling, all her worries tumbling from her shaky lips.

  “Elliot set the bomb…the timer…the pill…the Home might be next.” Tears come as fast as her words. “We need to check the Home… God, Nick, we can’t lose the Home. And if Kit hadn’t been there...”

  “Shhh.” Nick’s pained attempts at comfort through the phone mingle with her sobs.

  I cradle her in my arms, and the way she melts into me makes me almost come undone. There are several attempts at stringing my words together coherently before I finally take Nick through what we know.

  Caro in my arms is both surreal and grounding, and the longer I talk with Nick, the more I’m bolstered in my resolve to see this through to the end. To make sure no one is after her and she’s out of danger.

  I fill him in on our conversation with Holman, how Elliot isn’t making this easy, and all the things we still need to do.

  “We’re coming home tonight,” Nick says once I’m done.

  “No,” Caro and I say in unison.

  Wild espresso eyes stare at me, pleading to get through to her brother. But there’s something else in her gaze. As I talk Nick off the ledge, because jumping in a car at midnight and then driving six hours plus is insane and it won’t help anyone, she looks at me as if she sees no one else, and it does strange and crazy things to me.

  “You need to arrange for a search of Caro’s place and the Home to make sure it’s bomb free.”

  “Consider it done. We’ll be home tomorrow then.”

  “No.” Her voice is raspy from the crying. “Nick, please stay the one more day. Don’t worry about me. I’m here with Kit and we’re okay. Please do this for me. Stay and I’ll see you day after next.”

  He exhales a long, tortured sigh. “Fine. But don’t do anything foolish. And if you find out where Elliot is, we’re going to pay him a visit.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” I reassure him as much as myself. “Okay, Caro needs some rest, and you need to end this call before you wake up Maggie.”

  He grunts on the other end and we say our goodbyes.

  “I do need some rest,” she mumbles into my shoulder, unmoving. “Oh, and I meant to tell you, I still have this.”

  Her hand slides into the pocket of the jacket beside her and she pulls out the tiny plastic bag with the tablet and piece of paper she found in the box.

  We may have lost the security footage from the break-in, but we still have the pill and telephone number on the label. It’s better than nothing.

  I can’t help but smile and she does the same. “Come on.” I stand and gently pull her by the hand. “How does a shower and bed sound?”

  Caro

  Kit hands me a glass of water and two pills for my headache, then he beckons for me to follow him through the door at the far end of the loft.

  “Bathroom’s through there.” He points to a doorway once we’re inside the bedroom, complete with a king bed and dresser.

  There’s only one b
edroom. One bed. A very big, comfy bed but only one. Images of the blonde in the hallway cause my stomach to cramp.

  Has she slept in his bed? Have there been other women over the years? Of course there have. What am I thinking?

  No. No. No. I will not do this.

  He opens a drawer and pulls out a shirt. “You can wear this.”

  I suck in a breath as he hands me a plain navy blue T-shirt, one I’d know anywhere. It’s my T-shirt.

  Well, not mine—it’s his, but it’s the very one I always wore when we were together. I would sleep in it, especially during those jobs where he’d been gone for nights at a time. Without thinking, I bring the cotton to my nose and inhale.

  “It’s clean.” His tone is flat but his nostrils flare and eyes narrow. I’ve insulted him.

  “I know.” I straighten, my voice rising in defense.

  Lemony fresh laundry detergent surrounds me. Gone is any scent of him or me, and my tongue ties and mind empties. What can I say to excuse my silly, insensitive move without revealing the truth? I was yearning to smell him. For the very reason I loved, no, love, this shirt.

  “I wasn’t—”

  He cuts me off. “Do you need help with the shower?”

  “Ah, no.” I’m too quick to respond and his features shutter. Damn, I’m doing this all wrong. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you meant.”

  “Your hair.” His eyes travel to the top of my head. “I can wash it for you so you don’t get your stitches wet. And I’ve got waterproof bandaging that we can put on it while you wash.”

  “Oh, yes.” My hand goes instinctively to the cut by my hairline. I’d forgotten all about it. “Yes, please.”

  With the precision of a machine, Kit sets up a chair, towels and a few pillows inside the shower stall. The washroom is big, with both a shower big enough for two and a bathtub. Inside the shower, there’s a long wand-like faucet head so he can get my hair wet while keeping my face and body dry.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” He pats the chair and then strolls from the shower.