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He puts his hand on the gun.
This part’s over. If I try to close the door in his face, he’ll shoot, and probably keep shooting until he’s inside the apartment. I won’t have him stepping over my dead body to terrorize the twins.
“Fine.” I throw the door open with every scrap of confidence I’ve stolen from my dad over the years and gesture inside. “Come in and wait for him. I’d rather not leave the door just open to anyone.”
The man rolls his eyes at my irritation. “Aren’t you feisty? You weren’t like this yesterday.”
“You didn’t use your manners and knock on the front door yesterday.”
“That all it takes with you? Good manners?”
His grin slithers into a leer, and he pats the gun at his waist absently. Affectionately. My heart throws out all its cards and flops helplessly to the table, begging for the rest of my body to realize there’s a threat. Here. Now.Run.
There’s not going to be any running. Not yet. The twins have backed themselves into the far corner of the kitchen. I’ve never seen the whites of their eyes so huge.
“Hi, honey.” The man’s zeroed in on Mia’s red hair. I could throw up on shoes. Vomit all my anger and disgust onto the black, beat-up sneakers. “Is your dad going to be home soon?”
Mia’s eyes land on mine. I can’t nod at her. It would be too obvious.
I go with a smile instead. A single corner of my mouth.
“Yes.” My sister’s chin goes up, and it kills me just as surely as a bullet would. That small, defiantyeswill play on repeat in my head for the rest of my life. She shouldn’t have to be this brave.
“How’s his new job going?”
Mia hesitates.
“It’s fine.” Ben tightens his arm around her. “He’s doing a good job.”
The man who’s here to ruin our lives smiles again, and my pulse is so fast it’s fleeing the scene. Like packing up late at night while somebody pounds on the door. Like running to a rusted-out car with the twins’ little hands in mine, one on either side, a backpack for all three of us banging against my back.
“Where does he work?”
Ben opens his mouth to answer.
A knock on the door rescues him.
It’s Will. I know, because the noise is slightly off, like he’s knocking with his right hand. He threw too many punches with his left.
I don’t make a move. Don’t want to do anything sudden. The asshole with the gun takes it out of his waistband, the barrel pointing toward the floor. He looks from me to the twins.
Another knock. More insistent.
“Answer it.” He waves toward the door with the gun. “Tell whoever that is to go the hell away.”
I head in his direction, going out of my way to crowd him. He backs up. I’m still between him and the twins when I reach the door and open it a few inches.
Will stands in the hall, eyes dark with worry and suspicion.
“Hi. I can’t actually talk right now. Go away, and I’ll call you later.”
He tries to look behind me, into the apartment. “Did something come up?”
Yes. A man with a gun who’s standing behind me right now. We could all end up dead, because my dad’s not coming home and I don’t have fifty thousand dollars in cash on me.
I look him in his gorgeous, blue-green eyes, praying he’ll understand. Please, please understand. “No, everything’s fine. My mom is home.”
Bitter disappointment shadows his eyes, but it’s chased away by a blank withdrawal in the space of a heartbeat. He might not remember the story about the postcard on my wall. The trip we never got to take. I don’t think he remembers half the conversation we had after his fight, much less what I said while he fucked me in the conference room.
