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“What’s going on here?” Tucker asks.
“This isn’t a good time,” I sigh, putting a hand on his forearm to calm him down.
He ignores me and look around. His gaze falls on my little sister, who is looking back at him.
The second cop approaches me and asks me something, but I remain focused on Tucker. I catch the exact moment he notices the word spray-painted in red on my wall. His body tenses up a little more. I can’t see his face because his back is to me, but I can imagine exactly how he must look.
This can’t be true, damn it. Maybe he’ll think it’s a stupid mistake?
He suddenly turns to me, nostrils flaring. The cops tell me they’re leaving, reminding me they’ll be in touch as soon as they have anything, but I don’t move an inch. Neither does Tucker. He stands still, like a statue—a dangerous statue.
“Iris,” he whispers in a voice from beyond the grave as he takes a step toward me.
His posture could frighten many people. But I can read beyond that, and in the depths of his eyes, behind his apparent rage, I detect worry.
Agnes, who doesn’t know him at all, must be afraid. But no, she rushes in front of me as if to protect me with her small body. She plants herself between Tucker and me and raises her fist in his direction.
“Don’t touch!” she orders him sternly.
He seems upset. He stops suddenly, his eyes lost in the one of the little redheaded girl who is knee-high to a grasshopper standing in front of him. He seems to regain some awareness, and I see that he makes an effort to relax his facial muscles.
“You must be Agnes. Hi,” he begins awkwardly.
My little sister doesn’t move an inch. My heart clenches painfully at the love I feel for her. I put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze it.
“It’s okay, Agnes, this is Tucker. He’s my friend,” I say to her.
She slowly lowers her fist but still doesn’t move.
“I’m the guy you talked to on the phone the other day,” Tucker continues. “You know, the one you called names.”
Catching me completely off guard, I see this six-foot-tall mountain of muscle kneeling in front of a nine-year-old girl, a mischievous grin on his face. A black lock of hair falls on his forehead.
My little sister tilts her head toward him, and I gently shift to observe their exchange.
“Are you her boyfriend?” she asks.
Please tell me she didn’t say that. I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them again, Tucker has his full attention focused on me. Kneeling on the floor, he stares at me without flinching then turns to my little sister.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
My mouth opens slowly, but no sound comes out. My heart misses a beat. I don’t know what to do. Run and hide? Pretend that this simple statement doesn’t shake me up more than that? Yes, that’s a good solution. I clear my throat and then say, “I want you to go take a shower, Agnes.”
My little sister turns to me, faking a doe-eyed look to try to change my mind. “But…”
“Agnes.”
She crosses her arms, and I feel like I’m in the same position a few minutes earlier.
“Are you sure there’s nobody here?” she whispers.
I inhale deeply, anger building inside me. I wanted her arrival to be perfect, and whoever came into my apartment ruined it. My sister is scared, and so am I. But I’m the adult in the story, the one who has to take care of her. I put on a calm face. “There’s no one here. I’m here to protect you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Agnes slowly backs into the hallway, but she stops for a moment and stares at Tucker with a serious expression. “And you, will you protect my sister?” she asks him.
