The Little Death by Andrea Speed Read Free Book Online

it was the only thing that made the headaches and the memories go away. He nagged a bit, but I was a functional drunk, so it wasn’t that bad.
    After Spencer died, though, I may have hit the bottle harder, so much that it filed a restraining order against me, and Kyle’s nagging kicked into hyperdrive. Eventually I found a place to stay, just in time for him to kick me out. In a manner of speaking. I never liked ultimatums, and his “get help or I’m leaving you” bullshit was emotional blackmail. I don’t handle shit like that well. I should have known it wasn’t going to work, though. Not only is Kyle kind of uptight most of the time, and, of course, a big slab of police-issue bacon, but he was eight years younger than me, just the right age to never quite get all my references and make me feel as old as sin. He was sexy as hell, though, and sometimes just looking at him made my heart hurt, although I wasn’t gonna tell him that.
    As for what the guys who were late for batting practice were doing, I figure they were sending me a message. If they didn’t want my twenty bucks and glow-in-the-dark condom, then they were just trying to get a point across. What point, beyond the fact that they thought my looks would be improved with some amateur bat-based plastic surgery, was unclear.
    Had to do with the Granger case, though. Of that I was sure. Someone didn’t like me poking my nose in, but who and why? Curious. Why was an amateur—but very hot—gold digger like Sloane Granger attracting so much negative attention? It made me wonder. Well, when my head wasn’t ringing like a gong.
    Kyle decided to write up a report for me, even though he was off duty, and I told him I really wanted to spend the night at my place, because I couldn’t sleep in hospitals, and also I couldn’t afford it. Eventually I got through to him, and he went to talk to the doctor, a harried woman who looked like she needed a three-week vacation somewhere hot and languid. She told him I should be watched for the next twelve hours or so, to make sure I didn’t have a head injury that would kill me, but otherwise there was no need for me to stay overnight. I might have had some broken ribs, they weren’t sure, but that wasn’t something that needed me taking up precious hospital bed space. Kyle said he’d take me home, but only if I went to his place so he could keep an eye on me. I had no choice but to agree.
    Kyle took me home, and I was so doped up on pain medication that nothing hurt, but I also didn’t have much of a memory either. I vaguely remember him helping me into his apartment, walls white as snow and rooms as neat as a Martha Stewart layout, but beyond being gently placed on his bed, everything else dimmed.
    He could have put me on his couch, but he didn’t. Was he really that worried about me? I could still taste blood, and sometimes it seemed like I could feel my whole face throbbing in time with my heartbeat, but I kind of hoped I wasn’t beaten that badly.
    I slept deep, dreamlessly, the peaceful sleep of the incredibly drugged. I did awake at some point, having to piss, and only then did I feel the warmth of him. Looking, I saw that Kyle was asleep beside me, his back to me, which was probably for the best. When I stumbled back to the mattress, still in the haze of the drugs but starting to feel certain aches, I was careful not to wake him before getting back into bed. I snuggled next to him, though, enjoying the warmth of him, the smell of his skin.
    Yeah, we couldn’t make it as a couple, but I did like Kyle. Not always, but he was the one who got away. I supposed I would always love him and always regret what may have been, but there was nothing I could do about it. Life moved on, whether I wanted it to or not.
    I woke up again later, this time feeling hands on my body, Kyle caressing my chest. It took me a moment to realize he was searching my rib cage for breaks, but when I opened my eyes, sleepy, feeling the aches