Curly ConfusionEverything hurt. From fitting her feet into her trainers and waiting for Jackson to tie the laces, to sitting in the passenger seat of his police car and noticing every bump and pothole on the way home. Exhaustion snatched at Kit’s consciousness, rendering her incapable of anything more than existing. Jackson had snagged her house and shop keys from the tiny pile of belongings remaining in her possession. Her handbag still sat on the shoe rack upstairs in Mr Rashid’s apartment and her phone lay in smithereens on the floor of the wrecked vehicle. He unlocked her front door and helped her inside, letting her pick her own route across the lounge until the backs of her legs hit the comfy cushion of her reading chair.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, leaning her head back and closing h
