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I shoo that thought away, the same way I do every time those silly statements rise in my mind.
I focus instead on the glass and the brick.
Lava whines from the doorway behind us, pawing at it, but there’s no way we can let him in here until this is cleaned up.
Markus turns to me, frowning slightly. “If I’m going to help you, I need to know,” he says.
I tense up for a moment, wondering if he means the revelation I was going to give him upstairs. But then I realize he means the other thing, which he’s somehow sensed with his badass SEAL instincts.
“Let me clean this up,” I murmur. “I don’t want Lava to cut himself.”
“I’ll help,” he says.
“Okay, there’s a dustpan in that drawer.”
Together, we start cleaning up the mess, the kitchen cold where the winter wind blows freely in, causing the diaphanous lacy curtain to flutter around like a trapped ghost trying to escape.
“It’s the reason I ran here,” I murmur as I hold the trash bag open for him as he jostles the pan, sliding the glass into the bag. “I thought I’d gotten away from it. Him. I thought I’d escaped that part of my life. But first the door, then your car, and now this. It’s not a coincidence, is it?”
“I don’t know,” Markus says, reaching over with his free hand, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze. “All I know is I need the truth. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Why?” I ask, disbelief pricking me.
“Because I’d never forgive myself if I did,” he growls.
I tie the trash bag and stow it in the corner, and then grab the vacuum cleaner.
“That still doesn’t explain why,” I say, unwinding the cord.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” he says, with some of the gruffness he’s famous for in Stone Harbor.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
Because I’m scared. And I think you can help.
“I told you I was in an orphanage, right? Well, when I was about fifteen this man came to talk to us about drug addiction. You know, one of those programs to try and catch kids early.”
“I know the sort,” he says softly or something that must pass as soft in his gruff voice.
“You know what? Just let me clean this up quickly and then we can let Lava in. He’s going crazy out there.”
Markus nods, unable to deny that the dog is eager to get in and help in any way he can. His panting has turned stressed and breathy, a whine beneath that breaks my heart.
“I’ll go and keep him company,” Markus says. “I’m guessing he hates vacuum cleaners like any healthy dog.”
I laugh. “Yeah, they’re the devil as far as he’s concerned.”
We share a smile – I smile, he smirks – and then he strides across the room and all at once Lava’s stressed-out whines become happy panting noises. I catch a glimpse of him jumping up on Markus before the door closes behind them.
I switch on the vacuum cleaner, happy to let the loud whirring noise blot out my thoughts.
I push and pull it over the glass graveyard, doing it several times to make sure that no sneaky small pieces can hide anywhere.
The insane urge to climb out of the window and flee this house, this conversation, this town comes surging over me. I haven’t even told Jackie the whole extent of what happened to me out west. She knows that I was running away from something bad, but not the specifics.
Am I really going to tell a complete stranger?
Stop calling him a stranger, an instinct screams inside of me. He’s the future father of your children, your future husband if you’re lucky. He’s the man of your dreams.
I bite down for a moment, trying to battle those thoughts away. They’re so pie-in-the-sky, so insane, so just … ugh. I imagine voicing them to Markus and envision how he’d react, and in my imaginings, it’s never pretty.
I finish the vacuum cleaning and double-check the floor, and then stow it in the corner.
“Okay,” I call. “All done.”
Markus walks into the room, frowning at the window, where snowflakes bluster in through the curtains.
“We’re going to need to sort that out,” he mutters.
“I’ll call someone,” I say.
“I can take care of it if you want,” he replies. “Just need to go into town to get some supplies. For tonight we can board it up. Do you have any tools?”
“In the basement, I think. Jackie’s ex-husband left some behind.”
“That’ll work.”
Lava comes barreling over to me when Markus turns back into the hallway, his tongue hanging out as he leaps up at me, checking that I’m safe. Once he’s made sure that I am, he starts sniffing around. I watch him anxiously, waiting for any sign that he’s stepped on any glass.
A minute later, Markus returns with a few sheets of cardboard and some duct tape.
