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“Oh, that is so nice of you! But I actually ate while I was preparing dinner, and I have a whole messy kitchen to clean now. I hope you two enjoy the food though!”
And I don’t wait for him to argue.
I lied, of course. I haven’t eaten, so I make my plate and take it into the game room. Harper and I eat together on the couch while she walks me through her favorite characters in her show. Then after, I take our empty plates into the kitchen so I can get started on cleaning. I’m standing in front of the sink that’s filled to the brim with soapy bubbles and dishes when the door to the porch slides open.
I assume it’s Luke coming in to check on Harper or use the restroom, which is why I don’t turn around. Then David’s voice sounds from right behind me.
“Such a hard little worker…”
I flinch in surprise and the plate slips out of my hand, clattering loudly as it crashes against the other dishes in the soapy water. I move to turn around, but David is there, pressing me against the side of the sink, his chest to my back, his hands caging me in on either side.
He laughs at my reaction; he likes it.
“No need to freak out. I just want to talk.”
My mouth opens but I can’t get a single word out. My mind has gone completely mute. My arms are useless. Whatever I’m supposed to do now, it doesn’t come.
He grips my hip, and all I can feel is my heart racing in my chest a mile a minute.
David is there, right up against my back one second, then in an instant, he’s wrenched away from me.
He gasps in surprise, but it comes out slightly strained and gargled like he’s being choked. “What—”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
Luke’s voice is deadly.
I whirl around in a panic. Luke’s got David by the back of his shirt collar. It’s twisted around his fist, and he’s using it to lead David toward the kitchen doorway.
“Relax,” David chokes out.
“Relax? Be glad I’m not calling the police, you fucking prick.” Luke releases his collar and shoves David away like he’s disgusted to even have to touch him.
David catches himself, laughs, and then holds up his hands in innocence. “She wasn’t exactly resisting, if you know what I mean…”
Before I can even react to this, to defend myself in some way, Luke rears back and punches him. I flinch, glad at least that I quelled my scream. The sound of his fist colliding with David’s face makes me almost sick to my stomach. He put the full force of his body behind it; I wouldn’t be surprised if he broke the guy’s nose.
David groans in pain and starts cursing as blood rains down his lips and chin. Threats tumble out of him, one after another. “I’ll sue you for all you’re worth! I’ll take you to court! I’ll call every reporter I know!”
“Good. Do it,” Luke says, utterly unfazed. “In fact, I welcome it. Now get out.”
David spits blood and turns, leaving in an angry huff. Then, just before he reaches the front door, he calls back over his shoulder, “Oh and just to be clear, we’re done. Find yourself a new agent.”
Luke laughs like this last remark is absolutely hilarious.
David slams the front door, and a few moments later, his tires squeal down the driveway.
I’m frozen in place.
That was his agent, not a friend.
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
My shaking hands grip the kitchen counter on either side of my hips. I’m in shock; I think that’s what this is. My eyes home in on the wet blood stains on the floor. Then I flinch as I remember the feel of David’s hand sliding up my waist. That possessive grip. The fact that I stayed silent instead of defending myself. I could have pushed him away, argued, screamed, done something, and I didn’t.
Luke is looking at me. I feel his warm gaze on the side of my cheek, my body. Maybe he’s looking for damage. Maybe he’s just waiting for me to show some sign of life.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
His earnest apology makes me squeeze my eyes shut with guilt.
Was David serious about all those threats? Is he really going to sue Luke?
“It was my fault,” I whisper weakly.
None of this would have happened had I not been here, or at least it wouldn’t have gotten as bad as it did if I’d just put my foot down with David from the get-go instead of trying to placate him.
I grab a dish rag, wet it, and hurry over to wipe up as much blood as I can before it stains the floor.
“Dad?” Harper’s voice comes from down the hall. “What’s going on? Was someone yelling?”
