“Hell no.”
I saw someone I knew outside the building. Darlene pointed to him. Lucky winner. The tall, bony guy from Vince’s driveway. I couldn’t miss that Adam’s apple. The MC on the Strip told him, and he hugged his girlfriend. The camera moved to the next potential winner.
“Come on, asshole,” called a boozer from the end of the bar. “Put the game back on.”
I watched for Vince. If he was there, he was close to Emily, and I had to call it in to security. The picture flipped to the game. I was never so disappointed to see Jack Youder at second base in my life.
I clapped Brian on the back.
“Later.”
“Yeah.”
I was almost out the door when he called my name. Half-in, half-out of the bar, I looked back at him.
“You don’t want a gut.”
I made a fist at him. He made a fist back.
I’d forgotten why I went to the bar. Forgotten what I’d asked and what he answered. My whole being was caught up in protecting Emily.
CHAPTER 32
EMILY
—Are you ok?— The odd urgency of the text from Carter was undeniable, even in three words.
—Why?—
—Your ex is in the house— What the . . . ? I shut off the movie I was watching. The most meaningless gesture I could have made and the last one I could manage before my body stopped obeying commands. My skin crawled and my muscles froze. Fabian had locked everything. I knew he had. He’d checked the whole house before catching up with Carlos at Entertainment Live! I was starting to wish I’d gone instead of sitting on the couch eating ice cream.
—Where?—
Was he watching me now? Would he take away the phone? Was I just waiting for a crack to the head? Would he hit me from behind or try and talk to me?
—Don’t know. Saw one of his friends outside. Get close to Carlos or Fabian right now— —They’re at EL—
I waited for the three dots to appear, meaning he was typing. My ears were on high alert. My muscles were infused with adrenaline but motionless. I didn’t hear a thing.
And no dots from Carter.
Two things happened at once.
Grey jumped on the couch, and the phone rang. I shrieked and dropped the phone on the floor.
Still sure Vince was in the house, I dove for the phone.
It was Carter. I scurried along the floor, putting my back against the wall, and picked up.
“Carter?” I whispered.
“Where are you?”
“My living room.”
I heard a heavy breath from the other side. A car horn. Traffic. He was outside.
“What do I do?” I hissed.
“Nothing. You’re fine. I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I saw one of his friends on TV lining up for—”
“Are you kidding me?” I was still speaking softly.
“I—”
“You just took years off my life.” I’d spun from whispering in fear to yelling in anger with the torque of a backflip. “In the house. You said ‘in the house,’ right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Are you laughing?”
“I’m relieved you’re all right.”
“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”
Grey, as if sensing everything was all right, jumped off the couch and into my lap.
“Maybe, but if I thought you were going to be at EL! with Darlene, he might think so too. So this wasn’t a completely false alarm.”
“Who was it? The friend you say you saw. Allegedly.”
“Tall, skinny guy.”
“Ichabod Crane. Aka Kyle Bedrosian. His girlfriend loves Darlene, okay? He had every bit of business being there. God, I can’t stand you right now. You break up with me this afternoon, and now I get this call.”
“I didn’t . . .” A car door slammed, and the ambient noise around him disappeared. “I didn’t break up with you.”
“Because we were never a thing. That’s why.” I stood and traced the outline of the room in my bare feet, checking the locks and windows and closing the blinds. “Because you have this whole push-pull thing down to a science. You know, keep me interested but give me nothing? That. And I’m so sick of it. So sick.”
“That’s not what I was doing. I—”
“You nothing. Thank you though. Thank you for making me brave enough to start dating again.”
“Wait a—”
“I have to go.”
I hung up the phone and shut the ringer. The scare he’d put into me made me tired and grouchy. I was going to bed alone. Happily alone.
Grey followed me into the bedroom and purred at my feet. I picked her up. Her back went jelly and her legs stiffened, jutting out like pretzel sticks in taffy.
“What?”
She yawned. I brought her close and held her to my chest. She relaxed her legs, and her spine curved to fit against me.
I needed Carter to be more like a cat.
CHAPTER 33
CARTER
“Dad?”
I snapped out of a fantasy where Emily curled up against me and breathed into my chest more and more slowly, until she fell asleep in my arms. I’d gotten home in time for the last of dinner and studying. Phin was memorizing all the countries in Africa and struggled with the landlocked ones. “Are you watching?”
“Yeah.” I leaned forward.
“Democratic Republic of Congo,” he said, clicking an odd-shaped landmass on the computer. “It’s different from the Republic of Congo.” The map of Africa was completely blue. All right on the first try.
“Well,” I replied, “you seem to have it down.”
“Yeah.” He shut the machine.
Upstairs, he got ready for bed, showering, running across the hall to the linen closet for the towel he forgot, probably leaving puddles all over the floor. Good chance he’d forgotten his underwear as well. He’d cross the hall in a towel, leave it on the floor, put his underwear on without really drying himself, and go to bed with wet hair. I’d hug him before he fell asleep, pick up the towel, hang it, and watch a little TV before bed.
Same as always.
Except I couldn’t even keep my mind on African countries because I was anxious about Emily. I’d called Fabian, who assured me she was locked away like the crown jewels. I should have felt better about it. I should have been happy I’d nipped the leak about my neighborhood in the bud.
I dodged a pile of Legos and snapped Phin’s damp towel up from the floor.
“Good night, kid,” I said.
“Good night, Dad.”
I put my fist up, but he didn’t. He rolled onto his back and laced his hands behind his head. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.” I sat on the edge of the bed.
“How do you know if a girl likes you?”
I wasn’t ready for this question. When all the other boys had started chasing after girls, Phin had declined to engage. He had female friends. He called them girl-spacebar-friends.
“You mean like?”
“Duh.” His eye roll provided a great view of his frontal lobe.
“Well. She seems happy to see you. She’s nice to you. She wants to know about you. Um . . .”
“What if she tells her friends you’re not cute? Like she’s not interested at all?”
“This.” I waved my finger at him. “This is a very important thing to know. Friends are different for women than they are for men. Men want to hang out and do things, like play ball. Women are different.”