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He was staring at me.
I was staring back.
“He never contacted you? Not since that dinner?”
I shook my head.
He narrowed his eyes.
“You don’t believe me?” I accused.
“Didn’t say that.”
“You better not fucking say that!” I yelled.
He gave his head a shake and blew out a breath. He put his palms over his eyes and rubbed.
“I gotta go hit something.”
“You do that,” I snapped.
His hands dropped and he stared at me a minute.
I rolled the other way and got to my feet on the other side of the bed.
I stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door. I washed my face and drank a glass of tap water.
I looked at my reflection.
I shook my head.
I felt the tears threaten but I didn’t let them come. I opened the door. He was standing there, looking down at me. I couldn’t read his expression. My dog was in his doggie bed, chewing on his big red Kong toy.
I tried to walk around him but he stopped me with his hands on my shoulders.
“Get off,” I pushed his chest with both hands, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
His eyebrows rose in challenge.
I glared.
He backed off and looked at the floor.
“Fuck you, Tommy. Just…fuck you.”
I stormed out.
He caught me in the hallway and I was up in his arms.
“Put me down!”
He put me down on the bed and pinned me, his eyes on mine. Remorse in them. Maybe. I didn’t know. I didn’t really care. I needed space.
“Don’t be like this. I need you.”
“I need to not be afraid that you’ll keep killing people.”
“Tia.”
