Free Prayer by Susan Fanetti Page B

other was shadowed with the deep bruising that masked his face, the result of his broken nose. He had a couple of stitches in his lip as well.
     
    “God,” she said when she opened the door. “I’m so sorry.”
     
    He didn’t acknowledge the apology. When he just stood there, looking both pathetic and angry, Katrynn asked, “Do you want to come in?”
     
    Again, he didn’t answer, but when she stepped back, he came forward, into her apartment. As she closed the door, he went to her sofa, pushed George out of his way, and sat down.
     
    “Can I get you something? A drink?”
     
    “No.” His voice was stilted and hoarse. “Sit down.”
     
    She sat. The vibe he gave off was considerably more angry than friendly, so she sat in the Bentwood rocker across from her sofa. Then she waited for him to say what he’d obviously come to say.
     
    It took him a few seconds of staring at her to get the words going. “I like you, Kitty.”
     
    “I like you, too.” She smiled as she said it, though the expression felt strangely inappropriate.
     
    “But you’ve got something going with that guy—John.”
     
    “No.”
     
    He answered that with as broad an expression of ironic disbelief as his mangled face could manage. “Then what’s his problem?”
     
    “I honestly don’t know. There’s nothing between us. There never has been.”
     
    That was even truer than she’d realized. John didn’t even remember their night together. What had been a perfect night for her, what had given her hope that she might have a chance at something real and deep, what had totally reset the bar of her understanding of what sex could be—he didn’t even remember it. Her perfect night had not happened at all for him.
     
    That was how much she mattered.
     
    She really needed to keep all that locked behind the mind-door.
     
    “That’s bullshit, Kitty. Look at my face. He didn’t come at me for nothing. So you’re lying or you’re stupid, but either way, it doesn’t matter. I do not need this shit in my life.”
     
    It was as she’d expected. Katrynn felt disappointed, but her disappointment seemed to come from a place bigger than Atticus himself. It wasn’t so much losing whatever they might have been starting. It was more like her heart simply sighed. Another one bites the dust.
     
    Sometimes it was her doing the breaking up, and sometimes it was the guy, but there was always a breakup. Katrynn was a couple of months shy of her thirtieth birthday, and she was getting tired of endings. Even when she was intent on settling, she ended up alone.
     
    She guessed, though, that Atticus wasn’t really breaking up with her. They’d spent a few days, and only one night, together. He was ending something that hadn’t begun. His calling her a liar or stupid had eased any real regret she felt to have this particular man out of her life.
     
    “I understand,” she answered, now ready for him to be gone, so she could go herself. A mom hug was in order this afternoon.
     
    But he wasn’t finished yet. “Look at my face,” he repeated. “Murray is cancelling six appearances I had lined up for this week. Three TV interviews. To support my book. That’s money out of my pocket. Murray thinks I should press charges. And sue. That asshat and the bookstore both.”
     
    And who was calling whom stupid? “That’s a terrible idea, Atticus. Do you know who Bev’s husband is? And he’s John’s cousin, too.”
     
    “Everybody knows who he is. So I’m just supposed to sit back and take this? That’s not how I work, honey.”
     
    “Then you are truly stupid.”
     
    He stood up at that. “We’ll see. I don’t know why I came here today.”
     
    She stood up, too. “I guess I don’t, either. Don’t start a fire, Atticus. You’ll be the one who gets burned.”
     
    He grinned at her, his lips creeping up the less-injured side of his face. The effect was ghastly. “Aren’t you the little poet.”
     
    It seemed to her