Faster We Burn

again. I’d never heard him use it, though.
    “Yeah, I don’t believe that. She was your friend too. Where are you?”
    “Home.” His voice was tight, like he was holding back. Leave it to Stryker to be one of those guys that turned into a freaking clam when they were suffering from grief. He’d been so open and supportive when I’d been going through it, always trying to get me to talk about it. I was going to do the same for him.
    I started walking back toward my room to get my car keys. “I’m coming over.”
    “No, no. You have to get back to class. I said, I’m fine.” He dropped something on the other end and swore.
    “Fuck you, you’re not fine. Don’t you even dare use that word with me, Stryker Grant. I know exactly what it means.”
    “Katherine, I said I’m fine. Just go to class. I just need you to go to class, okay? Please.” His voice cracked, and my heart cracked a little at the same time hearing it.
    “Stryker.”
    “I love you. I’ll call you later, okay?”
    “I love you, but—”
    He hung up before I could say anything else. Dick Stryker had returned, only this time he had a side of Damaged. Simon came out of our room just as I was about to open the door.
    “Stryker wouldn’t tell me anything. I think he’s moping at his apartment, so that’s where I’m headed,” I said.
    “Do you want some company?” In another lifetime I would have gone for him, too. If he liked girls in that other lifetime.
    “No, I think I got it. I’m good at dealing with dead people,” I said, giving him a smile. “Could you get my purse for me? It’s on my bed.”
    “Oh, yeah, right. Sure.” It took him a second to return the smile before he ducked back into the room. My sense of humor had never been particularly dark, but it had taken a turn since everything had happened with Dad.
    “Tell Lottie I’ll keep her updated,” I said when he handed my purse to me a second later.
    “Will do.” He nodded and closed the door, and I heard Will and Zan talking softly. The crisis response team had assembled and was ready to go. Again.
     
    ***
     
    I knew if I just banged on his door, he wouldn’t answer, so I used the spare key I knew he hid over the door. He was going to be pissed at himself for showing me where it was, but I was glad he did. It was there for emergencies and this qualified, in my book.
    “Stryker?” I opened the door cautiously.
    “Goddammit!” he said, slamming something down. I opened the door and he stormed over from the kitchen where I could see a shot glass and a half-full bottle of scotch sitting on the counter.
    “I told you to go to class,” he said, glaring at me. No, this wasn’t Dick Stryker. This was a guy I’d never met. This was angry-damaged Stryker, and he’d also been drinking. Not a good combination.
    “Yeah, well, I don’t take orders from you, asshole.” He stood in the doorway and wouldn’t let me come in. “You may not like it, but you were there for me when I needed you, and now I’m gonna be there for you whether you like it or not.”
    “I don’t need you,” he said, practically spitting out the words.
    “Well, buddy, it kinda seems like you do.”
    Even six months ago, the way Stryker was talking to me might have sent me running back to my car, but I wasn’t that scared girl anymore.
    I shoved past him and walked into the apartment to find it in chaos. His instruments were all over the place, as if he’d picked them up to play and then tossed them aside, like an angry toddler with his toys.
    “You’re going to regret that,” I said, picking up a violin bow that was broken in half.
    “Jesus, Katie. I really don’t need this right now, and not from you.”
    I turned around to find him going back to the bottle of scotch. Oh no, I was not letting him drown his sorrows. I dived in front of him, getting to the bottle before he could and throwing it in the sink where it shattered.
    “What the fuck!” He lunged at me, grabbing my shoulders. His green eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He’d been crying.
    “What did you do that for?” He shook my shoulders, but I held my ground. It wasn’t like Zack. When I was in the car with him, I’d known to be afraid. I wasn’t afraid of Stryker. I knew, with every cell in my body, that he wouldn’t hurt me. Ever.
    “I’m doing it because someone needed to. Hey, hey, look at me.” I touched his face, holding it gently. This boy who seemed so strong was even more fragile than anyone