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Ethan stands there, utterly shocked.
“I told you no and no means no. You ever do that again, and Silas won’t be the one sending you to the ER,” Ophelia tells him in no uncertain terms.
I stare at her, eyebrows high, struck mute as she stalks back around the bed and drops to her hands and knees to feel around the carpet.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Stupid contact.” A minute later, she holds it up. “Got it.”
“Good. Get the rest of your things. I’m taking you home.”
When Ethan opens his mouth to protest, I drag him out of the bedroom. “You listen to me, you little punk. She’s a good kid. Legal age of consent or not, she is not for you.”
“Who’s she for then, Silas? You?” He snorts.
“You just leave her alone, or I swear next time, I’m going to beat that pretty face of yours so hard, Mommy won’t recognize you,” that last part I say so only he hears. No need to scare Ophelia, although seeing her in action tonight, I’m thinking I have been underestimating her.
“When Dad sees what you did, you and your goddamn mother will both be out on the fucking street, you son of a bitch.”
Ophelia steps into the hallway, shoes on, purse in hand.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I can get home myself,” she says.
“Yeah, well, I’m walking you. Don’t give me any sass.”
“Sass? How fucking old are you?” Ethan asks. I flip him off as I follow her down the stairs. Once we get to the first floor, she stops and turns to me.
“Why don’t men ever just listen to women?”
“That boy up there is no man. And I told your dad I’d keep an eye on you. I’m not going to have you murdered out there on the street.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Murdered? Here? We’re the only two houses on the cul-de-sac.”
“Humor me, okay?”
“Phee.” Ethan’s voice comes from upstairs. She looks up at him. “Sorry.”
“You’d better be.” She then turns to me and shakes her head. “Fine. Take me home.”
I nod, gesture to the front door where she puts on her coat, and I walk her to her house in silence. Once there, she slips her key into the lock and opens the front door. She switches on the light and turns to me, and I see the Ophelia I know. The sweet, quiet girl.
“He’s a jerk. You can do better, O.”
“I can take care of myself, Silas.”
“Can you? What if I hadn’t come and he hadn’t stopped?”
A blush creeps into her cheeks. “He would have stopped.”
“If he hadn’t? You don’t know men.”
“I thought you said he was a boy,” she says more quietly, and I get the feeling she is more shaken up than she wants to admit or she wants me to see.
“Okay. You want me to stay?”
She smiles. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
