Especially since he was still sending daggers my way as though I had lured Pierce to the evil side, possibly destroying his career in the process.
The kitchen was once again filled to the brim. Abi and Ben the only two to have left, and that was out of necessity; Abi's nose hadn't stopped bleeding and Ben, being the type of man he was, needed to tend to his woman more than eavesdrop on Pierce and Stone's continued argument.
The rest of the onlookers though, were eagerly awaiting the fallout.
I wanted to escape and check on Daisy and Eva, but I wanted to take Pierce's back more. Ryan had thrown that first punch because Stone had slighted me, in what I could see now was only an offhand way. But Pierce's quick-fire reaction was almost heartwarming, if you overlooked the aggression and violence of punching someone on the jaw.
In any case, he deserved my support. Funnily, just like Kelly and Genevieve had suggested when I first woke up. Which made me realise I was feeling a little light-headed, exhausted from the small amount of exercise and large amount of emotional turmoil since I returned to the land of the living. I didn't give in to the need to sit down, just swayed slightly on my feet, surreptitiously reaching a hand out to steady myself against the back of a chair.
"You got a problem with this?" Pierce asked, his arms also crossed over a puffed up chest, matching Stone.
"If I did, would it stop you making a monumental fuck-up of your career?" the other guy threw back, effectively knocking the air out of Pierce's lungs with the verbal punch.
"This has got nothing to do with my job," Ryan returned, stance unchanged, despite Stone's sharp edged remark.
"Now that's just plain whacked," Stone said, and I wondered if he was eager to experience another fist to the jaw. "Since when has it been appropriate to get involved with a witness you're protecting?"
I felt more than saw the defeat enter Ryan's body. The truth of Stone's words hitting harder than if he had actually swung a punch towards Pierce's stomach. The whole room became shadowed in concern. If emotions could be felt physically, I swear every person listening in on this conversation would have been giving off dread in waves of crushing pressure. I felt tight all over, as though my chest was being constricted by an invisible force. As though the room was filling up with negative energy that would pulverise me with one small shove.
I couldn't meet anyone's eyes, knowing I'd see their agreement with what Stone was saying. See their judgement of both Pierce and myself. Knowing Stone had a valid point, one that shouldn't be ignored, despite how Ryan and I felt about each other.
This sucked. It actually hurt. The swaying of before had become a trembling and I was determined that no one would see me crumble when faced with insurmountable odds. I briefly considered just walking out of the room, making a quick escape. But I haven't had to face moments of sheer terror in the past and overcome them, to be beaten by the ugly truth coming out of a cop's mouth.
I ignored the stand-off, the fact that Pierce was unable to form a reply, and walked over to the kettle. My movements were a little jerky at first, but as the water from the tap began filling the kettle I breathed through the physical responses my body was making and pulled my once best friend about me like the shield it was. Confidence.
Confidence in the face of adversity. In the face of fear.
And I was scared what this conversation would mean. To Pierce and I, although we hadn't even started. I didn't want us to have to stop exploring whatever arced between us. So, I was scared that we would be forced to. Even if it was the right thing to do.
The kettle lid clunked down and I placed the device back on its stand, pressing the button to start it boiling. I pulled out three mugs from the overhead cupboard I'd seen Abi and Ben use, spooned in coffee and sugar - stuff it, Stone could take his cup of Joe sweet - and then turned to the fridge to extract the milk.
No one talked while I did this. No one got in my way or asked me what the fuck I was doing. Everyone just watched. Silently. No doubt incredulously. But I didn't care. The longer I acted as though nothing could touch me, as though I was encased in a thin sheet of ice, the easier it all became.
The kettle bubbled and steam rose, then with a small hiss and whistle it clicked off. I poured the boiling water over the coffee and sugar granules in the mugs, added milk, stirred and then picked one up at a time and placed them on the table's surface.
Now, the fun part.
"Give us a few minutes privacy, please," I said to the room at large, hoping my crisp tone wouldn't offend. I still didn't make eye contact with them, but instead acted as though I expected my request - no, demand - would be met.
I sat myself down and took a sip from my mug, noting it was still too hot and my tongue burned. I placed the drink on the table, turned it slightly, so the writing on the front was facing directly outward, and rested my hands in my lap.