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Henri steps into my lap and as usual, he licks me right in the mouth. I do a fake spit, and my hand fumbles to his muzzle, blocking more mouth-licks.
“A kyoodle is a noisy, yapping dog,” I say. “That is not you. You’re a good doggy. Yes you are! You’re a good doggy!”
My voice is a sing-song, and his entire body wags. I smile, his joy making me feel better.
Just then Luc’s door opens, and he snaps, “Henri, viens!”
He’s telling him to come, and the little dog happily takes off, back to his owner.
“Bonjour, Luc!” I call, but he doesn’t answer. “Au revoir, Henri,” I say quietly as their door closes.
Luc is not a bad neighbor, and the two of us have worked out a mutual coexistence in the building. Still, I’m lucky if I get a greeting from him. Only Henri is my cheerful friend when I come home. All eleven pounds of him.
I’m still sitting on the top step when my phone starts buzzing in my hand. Instinctively, all my tension from before races back, and with a shaky hand, I lift it close to my cheek, the screen bright in the dim hall. I’m bracing for Blix, hoping for Logan, and relieved when I see it’s only Cam.
What are you doing tonight? He texts.
I tap out a reply. Nothing definite. What’s up?
I’m playing at the Café Steele. Come see me.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I think about my little brother’s request. Logan had said he might only have a few hours this evening. Stopping in to check out Cam’s gig could be the perfect thing.
Sure! I text back. What time?
Really? I can almost see the playful gleam in his eyes. If he were here, he’d probably be hugging me.
Really. I’m very curious to see how this hair is working for you.
Chick magnet. I told you.
That makes my eyes roll, and I do laugh this time. See you tonight.
Pushing on my knees, I stand and turn toward my door. Luc can’t help me with this one, so I dig in my bag for the keys. I haven’t been here since I left to spend the day with Logan yesterday. I need to take my birth control. As much as I love feeling of Logan inside me, no barriers, a baby is a slip-up I cannot make. Not with all the shit I have hanging over me. Maybe not ever…
The thought provokes a twist of sadness in my chest, but I shake it away. I can’t pile sadness on top of sadness.
On a lighter note, I probably have a pile of mail to carry in. Funny how the junk mail always seems to find you.
My fingertips graze the metal pieces in my bag, and I drag out the large key ring. Bag on my shoulder, I place my left hand on the door, using my thumb to guide the key into the lock. I don’t realize I’m pushing against the wood until it slides open with a clatch.
Pulling back, I suck in a sharp breath. Fear shoves out every emotion in my chest. I’m paralyzed, standing in the hall facing my open door.
I know I locked it before I left yesterday. I remember distinctly…
I don’t move. I’m not sure if I should go forward or run away… or get Luc. I’m so good at getting around and feeling out the world despite the thick haze clouding my vision. Still, it’s situations like this where I feel my disadvantage all the way to my bones. Logan’s expressed desire to keep me by his side sounds pretty great right now.
“No,” I whisper, squaring my shoulders. “This is my place. I won’t be afraid.”
My keys are in my hand, and I make a fist around them, positioning the key I had planned to use between my middle and index finger. It’s sticking straight out like a small knife. If anyone tries to grab me, I’ll jam it straight into his unsuspecting neck.
With a trembling step forward, I hear my breathing loud around me in the small room. My teeth are clenched, and I reach to the side with my unfisted hand to turn on both light switches. The small studio fills with light, and I begin to make out the hazy shapes I know. I intentionally left the walls stark white to help with this process.
Bed in the corner… dresser against the wall… small table with chair…
Dark shape appears to be sitting in my chair…
My heart slams against my chest. I freeze then take a step back. “Who are you? What do you want?” My tone is stern with only the slightest wobble—miraculous, considering how close I am to hyperventilating.
