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“I’m gonna take Screwy out on collections. He needs to get out of here for a few hours,” Squealer says, and suddenly the thought of heading down to the bar without Screwy makes me nervous. Alex must pick up on it when she turns around from kissing her husband out the door.
“Relax, there are people here I know you’ll like. I want you to feel at home and to trust that no one here is gonna hurt you. There’s a bar room where us girls hang out by ourselves sometimes. It’s a lot more chilled than the main bar.”
“What if I’m not welcome? People weren't exactly pleased to see me last time I was there.” I point out.
“People were shocked, and not just because of you showing up instead of Riley. We all saw a different side to Screwy that night, even Squealer. Trust me–things will be different later.”
“Okay,” I agree because I trust Alex. I trust anyone who cares about Screwy, and I can see that she genuinely does.
Alex is helping me pick out something from her wardrobe, to wear down, to the club when the door knocks, and she calls out for whoever it is to come in. When I look over my shoulder and see Screwy standing at the door, I want to run to him. I want to throw my arms around his neck and tell him how sorry I am, but I remain rooted to the spot.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Alex hooks the dress she was holding up against me on the front of the wardrobe before making a quick exit.
“Screwy,” I breathe his name as he takes a few steps closer, but he still leaves a distance between us, like he’s scared that he’s going to frighten me again.
“I’m so sorry,” I start, and when he finally makes eye contact, he stares back at me like I've just punched him in the stomach.
“No,” he shakes his head.
“I made you mad, and I’m sorry.”
“No!” he repeats, closing the door and stepping right up to me. “Listen to me. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He clutches at the top of my arms, looking so disappointed in himself that it makes me want to cry again. “I keep fucking things up, so I think you should stay here with Alex and Squealer until we can find your family. It’s safer that way.”
“I’m safe with you,” I remind him, swallowing down the bad taste in my mouth. He can't have forgotten that.
I’ve never felt more secure than I do when I’m with him. “Please, I want to be with you.” I stand firm, despite it going against everything I’ve been taught. I need to make him understand.
“You really want to stay with me after everything that happened this morning?” He shakes his head, looking confused.
“Would you ever hurt me?” I look hard into those dark blue eyes and ask the question I already know the answer to.
Screwy needs to have faith in himself before he believes that I do.
“Never,” he answers without hesitation.
“I trust you.”
“I still don't think it’s a good idea.” His brows furrow as he wrestles with his better judgment.
“You told me there are no masters here,” I interrupt before he has a chance to say anything else.
“There aren’t,” he assures me.
“Then I get to choose where I stay, right?” I swear I see the tiny hint of a smile on his mouth, and it gives me a rush of pleasure that causes my own lips to twitch.
“Guess it does,” he shrugs, almost seeming proud of me. I can’t recall anyone ever being proud of me, not even my trainer.
“Then I’ll see you at the club later, when you have finished your collecting.” I smile at him confidently.
“Yeah, you will.” His eyes frown back at me like he’s making me a solid promise.
“Screwy, what do you collect?” I ask after he turns around and starts making his way to the door. A flash memory comes into my head– my hands are in the water, my fingers sifting through the stones beneath the surface.
“Stones.” The word blurts from my mouth, and when I look up from my open palms, Screwy is staring back at me blankly. “People collect stones, right?” I check.
“Some, I guess. Are you okay, Lydia?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I promise. You have fun collecting. Maybe you can show me later when you get home.”
