What a brat.
The dog dances at her feet as she washes her hands, completely aware of my presence but uncaring for now. It’s not hard to make friends with a Beagle obsessed with rabbits. You just give him what he wants. The same could be said for most men, too, probably.
“Rue!” A voice calls from deeper in the house, jarring everyone in the room, including me. “I need that body wash!”
Fuck, I hate that woman.
My gaze jumps to Rue’s reaction, and my heart unexpectedly squeezes at the sight of her closing her eyes and letting out a ragged exhale. Her mom gets under her skin more than a fucking mangled rabbit foot and nasty note.
“Coming,” Rue chokes out, and then reaches for the bottle. Her eyes never drop back down to Bullet, the trash, or the utility room. She just grabs the bottle and leaves me alone in the kitchen with the dog, nothing but the bar between us.
She’s distracted. Maybe tortured.
I should feel vindicated by that, but I don’t. I don’t know how the fuck I feel about it, really. My mood is all over the place.
Maybe it’s a lack of food.I eye the crockpot on the counter, knowing that if I try to make a move for it, it’ll put me right out in the open. I listen in closely.
“I need you to help me wash my hair. I can’t do it on my own,” Rue’s mother snaps from the bathroom. “Then you can leave me alone.”
I can’t make out Rue’s response, the distance muffling the sound. However, I can still make out the sound of defeat. And momentarily, my mind takes me back to the way her mother would verbally wear her down over every little thing.
Love from Rue’s mother was conditional at best.
And I hate that for her. But also, shecould’vehad my unconditional love.
If she would’ve just written me back.
I roll my eyes at the sensitive little bitch I’m being right now, and as a distraction from my own self, I slide around the front of the bar, and stand to my feet. I shove the crockpot lid open and reach for the spoon beside it, resting on a paper towel.
Without a care in the fucking world, I dip the spoon into the stew and then to my mouth. I chomp through a still-cold, hard potato.
Gross.I drop the spoon back down on the paper towel, and then reset the lid.
Well,sort of.I leave it askew. But just slightly.
I like the idea of driving Rue crazy inallforms of the word. I mean, yeah, I’d love to come face to face with her and actually say something, but the way she’s reacting is almost too enticing to refrain. She’s such a jumpy little thing.
It’s like she thinks there’s a ghost around here.
“Rue, I don’t know why you’re so clumsy,” her mother cuts into my thoughts, and I ease back toward the laundry room. It gives me a clean exit, if I need it. Bullet is already positioned at the front set of windows, staring out into the afternoon. He wiggles and then lets out a bark.
And that’s when I catch sight of the police cruiser tearing down the driveway.
My gut clenches.Oh no.
Part of me tells myself it’s time to make a run for it out the back, but the other part of me takes a stronger hold. I drop down to my knees, and then retreat to the spot on the other side of the bar.
“What is he barking at?” Rue’s voice carries from somewhere on the other side of the house.
I can’t hear an exchange between her and her mom, but I do catch the heavy knock on the front door. My entire body tenses, and I shut my eyes, focusing on the sounds rather than the panic building in my chest.
Panic won’t do me any good right now.
“It’s the police,” Rue’s voice falters in a satisfying way, though at the moment, it doesn’t have the impact I’d like it to.
“Well, answer it,” her mother shouts. “I’m still in the bath.”
I peer around the corner of the wall, barely able to make out the shape of Rue, and the way she’s raking her fingers through her hair. For a second, I imagine those fingers being replaced with mine…
