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Jami bit her lip. “He beat up Andrew.”
“Oh boy.” Skylar fanned herself. “I think I might be hot for him then.”
Jami shook her head. “You didn’t see him. He lost it.” She’d seen Malcolm violent before. Back in high school, he’d punched the guy that had grabbed her. She chewed her lip as she remembered. At the time, it had only made her crave him more.
“Wait, was this today?” Skylar asked.
Jami nodded. “The cops came. Andrew is in the hospital.” She couldn’t quite picture how Andrew had looked. Instead, she felt his hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back.
“Good.” Skylar’s hands tightened around her knees. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave any gory details out.”
Jami told her. It was the details about Andrew touching her that made her stomach hurt. Even remembering how Malcolm had broken his arm didn’t bother her like it should. After all, at the time, Andrew hadn’t acted like he would release her.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Skylar said.
“Skylar!” Jami shook her head. “Malcolm lost control.”
“Because of how the prick treated you.” Skylar hummed in her throat. “Hell, Jame, I think this guy’s in love with you.”
Jami shook her head as her mouth went dry. “No. He feels sorry for me, that’s all.” Even that morning, he’d held her while she slept. Sure, he’d desired her, but it hadn’t overwhelmed him. He’d been too busy worrying about her. “I mean, look at me. I’m a mess.”
Skylar sighed. “Look, I’m not agreeing with you, but if you feel that way, you probably shouldn’t be with him.” She shook her head. “Dad’s gone, Jame. It’s time to get your shit together and figure out you.”
“You’re right,” Jami agreed. “I mean, I’ve never even had a job.”
“Oh, you had a job.” Skylar flopped down on the floor again. “You just don’t get paid for taking care of a mentally ill person.” She grunted. “I’m glad that’s over. Even if it was the prick that did it.”
“I don’t miss Dad.” Jami felt guilty for saying it.
“Because it wasn’t him, Jame. Dad died with Mom a long time ago.” Skylar closed her eyes.
Skylar had always thought that way, but Jami couldn’t agree. Her father had asked for their mother often enough, had even confused Jami with her. A part of him had been there.
Long after her sister’s even breathing filled the room, Jami still imagined their father’s screams as the fire engulfed him.
Intheearlymorninghours, the drive took the two hours that the directions had first claimed. Returning the rental car was easier than pickup had been, and soon a rideshare let Jami out in front of Malcolm’s house.
Celia had texted that the police had released Malcolm the night before. Still, no one answered the door when she knocked and rang the bell. Jami had a key. Malcolm had given it to her in the very beginning of her stay in his guestroom. Even so, she sat on the steps leading up to the front door instead of using it.
Skylar had still been asleep when she’d left. Jami had written her a note. The tour her sister was on would be moving to a different city anyway. They had understood each other better than they had in a while. The visit had been a good one, even for how short it was.
She set the laptop box on the top step behind her, but let the leather journal rest on her lap. It felt good to touch; familiar, even though so many years had passed. She had spent all her extra money on notebooks as a teenager. School had always been easy for her, so the notebooks had helped pass the time when she wasn’t reading instead.
None of her scribbling had been any good, though, and the figments of ideas were all gone now.
“Jami.”
She looked up at the sound of his voice. Malcolm stood on the walk before the steps. Jami wondered how she’d managed to ignore the rev of his truck when he’d driven up, but then realized there wasn’t one. His was probably back at the tavern.
Malcolm moved forward. He left plenty of space between them as he sat on the same step. He didn’t say anything else, just sat there in silence. His hands rested on his knees. The marks on his knuckles still looked fresh.
Jami lifted her eyes to meet his. She pulled in a breath. “Thank you.”
Malcolm stared at his hands. “What are you thanking me for?”
She rested her hand over his. “I was scared.”
He swallowed. “I never wanted to scare you, Jami.”
