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I notice how strong Mathias’s hands are as he turns off the ignition. “I promise you’ll be safe here.”
I drag my eyes to his gaze. He looks so dang solemn, sincere. His eyes beg me to believe in him. I can’t, but I don’t have a choice. I’ve come this far. Hell, I was gonna go with that big burly trucker, knowing exactly what he wanted in return, and he was gross.
I made my bed when I took my chances on Mathias, and if I have to fight, even kill him to get away, then I have to stay ready.Stay ready, sugah, so you don’t have to get ready.My heart squeezes at Daddy’s words said in lighter times when he was teaching me how to bend and flex my body so I’d have the agility and balance not to fall off a tightrope. Not that I think I’ll win. Mathias is really big and has the body of an NBA player, over six feet tall, and even with the suit on, he looks super strong.
I nod because he expects it. He looks at me a little longer, then gets out. Something in his eyes, the set of his face, compels me to believe him, though I know I shouldn’t. Daddy would be so disappointed. He’d taught me to be careful always, always, always. This is why my stomach is so queasy. I feel like it’s about to give up the burger and the peanut butter and chocolate chip pancakes. Like a lil’ dummy, I follow Mathias as he opens the door.
My first impression is honeysuckle. The smell is light and airy when I enter, looking around at the space. The living room is so small, it feels like Mathias is taking up all the space. He stands by the door, looking around, his eyes soft, like this place means a lot to him.
“Um.” He stalls for a moment, clearing his throat, scanning the small cottage. “My grandmother lived here after my grandfather died.” He spreads his arms wide. “This is the living room.” He heads to a kitchen that has relatively new appliances, all stainless steel.
“Kitchen. It has everything, even a dishwasher. There’s a stacked washer and dryer right here.” He points to the rear facing a door that leads outside. He looks at me then. “Can you cook?”
“Yeah, pretty much everything. So, where’s your grandma?” I look around. The place seems empty.
“She died a few years ago, but I keep it up. I used to come here when I came home from school.” Now it’s his turn to not want to share anything. I can see a big Antebellum mansion off in the distance. It’s obvious that’s his family’s house, so why was his grandma stuck out here in the middle of nowhere?
“You live here?” Immediately I’m uncomfortable. If he lives here, what is he going to expect from me even if I just stay the night? I’m already thinking about how I can sneak out of here of make a run for it, like I planned on doing as soon as I got to next stop with the dumb truck driver. I had the knife, and the pepper spray Mathias gave me and would have used it if I had to. But here I’m at his mercy.
“No, not really. I just come here when I need a break from the big house. I’m going to law school, so I’ll be staying in an apartment up in Tuscaloosa.”
Then he comes back out to the main living area and points to a short hallway leading to the rear of the house.
“The only bedroom is on the right, and the bathroom is on the left. It has a claw-foot tub and one of those handheld showers.” He gives me a brief glance before looking away, color tingeing his high cheekbones.
I immediately feel the dirt and grime all over me from days of not having a proper bath. If he smells me, he doesn’t say anything. There must be a look of longing on my face, because he adds, “If you want to take a shower, go ahead. I promise nothing’s going to happen to you.” He shoves his fists in the front pockets of his dress slacks, looking all innocent. I can’t stand it. My already frayed nerves have had it.
“Then what the hell did you bring me here for? In the middle of nowhere, instead of to your real house, where there are people who can see me and know I’m with you?” The words come out hot, bitter, and scared. It’s not until I see the muscle ticking in his jaw that I realize I’m crying and yelling loudly enough to probably be heard at the main house.
He takes several steps back while I dash the tears away. He sighs, raking his hands through his dark locks. His silver eyes darken a little bit. I don’t know if it’s anger or guilt. I’m in no shape to make out anyone’s emotions right now despite how good Daddy said I was at reading people.
“Maybe I should just go,” I mumble, feeling tired and longing for that bath.
“No, I’ll go. If that’ll make you feel safe.” He takes a key off his key ring. “This is the only key to this place, and I’m giving it to you. That door will take an army to get through. This place may look small, but it was built to withstand F-5 tornadoes. You’ll be safe here.”
He breathes deep, looking around again before settling on me. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know you’re beat. Just rest tonight. As for why I brought you here: It’s the safest place I know. That house up there—” He nods in the direction of his home. “Ain’t. Trust me on that.”
It seems like I’m going to have to. My body feels like it’s gonna shut down any second.
“Alright.” I go over to my bag before riffling through it, trying to find something—anything—to put on that’s not soiled from being too close to dirty clothes that it’s begun to smell foul. “I need to wash my clothes first because I don’t have anything. Unless there’s something back there?” I sigh, dreading having to put on one of his dead granny’s muumuus.
“Nah, hold up.” He turns and is out the door before I can blink. He returns just as I’m coming back from dragging my backpack into the laundry room. He’s standing like he’s a guest in his own house with a stack of clothes.
“You can wear these instead of waiting for your clothes to dry.” He hands me two shirts, a pair of shorts, and a pair of joggers. “It’s all too big, but they’ll do the job for tonight.”
“Th-thanks,” I say, clutching the items close to me.
“Alright. I’m heading out.” He looks at his watch, and I can see it’s well past 10:00 p.m. Dang, have we been together almost two hours?
“No one should come by, but if anyone does, don’t answer the door. Like I said, this place is safe, and no one can get in here.” He turns to leave, and I honestly don’t know what makes the fear of being alone trip my heart or create this sudden newfound trust I have in him, but I manage to squeak out a “wait” in a small panicky voice.
“Can you stay till I finish taking a bath? It feels weird being in a new place all by myself.” I look around, feeling like such a coward. Why now? When I came all the way here from Chicago on my own?
“No problem.” He sits on the sofa facing the TV, pulling out the video game controllers. He powers on the TV and seems to dismiss me.
Backing up, I make my way to the room where he says the bathroom is in. “Wow,” I whisper when I step inside, flicking on the lights. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s sleek, pristine, and all black. I doubt this is the bathroom his grandmother had. The tile floor is black, the claw-foot tub a matte almost-dull gray black, the vanity matching the farm sink—a light gray. I notice small striations in the tile matching the color of the sink, with a faucet and knobs that are shiny platinum, as well as the spigot on the tub and the elongated handheld shower all coordinate creating a sleek but clearly masculine atmosphere.
Making quick work of my clothes, I run the water in the tub. Scared to touch anything because I’m so dirty. I notice a cabinet stocked with hand-milled soaps and hair products in Portuguese I get what looks to be shampoo and conditioner. Getting in the bath, I dunk my head beneath the water. It’s been almost a week, so I tackle my hair first. I inherited the looser curl pattern from my mom, Daddy always said, so it’s never been a hassle to comb, which is good, since I am incredibly tender headed.
