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“Spin the lock,” I told her.
She backed up, did that, then climbed under the blankets and let out a stuttered breath, looking like she had something on her mind. Probably still thinking about defending her sister to me.
I didn’t need to hear it. And thankfully she decided against whatever she wanted to say and kept her trap shut.
***
Watching TV in bed was something you did with your girl, not someone you had to babysit. And it was irritating me that I was doing just that…watching TV in a too-small bed with the hostage on a Saturday night.
Not that she was being treated like a hostage the way the enemy would treat her if the shoe was on the other foot. She’d probably be tied up somewhere instead of simply expected to hang out in my room. That, or she’d be passed around as club entertainment whether she wanted it or not.
I needed to turn the TV off and turn my back to her. It might make it easier to block out the fact I was sharing my bed.
“I just wanted to catch the end of that,” she tried when I turned it off.
“Listen hostage,” I informed, “My room? My bed? My rules.”
I pushed the lamp switch with my thumb as she was sighing, folding her arms over her chest with a grumpy expression. And I found it fuckin’ cute for some reason.
***
I bolted upright, grabbed a wrist, and jerked a body that smelled like citrus mixed with candy floss toward me.
There was the thud of something hitting the rug coupled with a female squeal, followed by, “Ow. Jesse!”
By that point, she was already flipped over my side of the bed, pinned under me. I twisted to flick the lamp on and glared at her frightened face.
“My phone made a noise, so I wanted to check it,” she breathlessly defended beneath me, trying to shrink into the pillows.
I guess I half-heard it too. Guess I didn’t shut it off like I thought I did. But that didn’t mean it was okay for her to sneak around in the dark, aiming to break a rule she’d heard as clear as day.
“Told you, I hold your phone.”
“It might be Kailey!”
“And did I say I had your phone? Not you?” I demanded, nearly shouting.
“You don’t get it,” she whined, “Can you please check? I need to know if she’s all right.”
I growled at her.
“Please, Jesse. I’ve got such a bad feeling.”
Fuck. I growled again as I reached over and found the phone on the floor.
Kailey: I’m a-ok. How r u?
I flashed the screen at her.
She squinted at it, then let out a rush of breath. She grabbed my shoulders and sighed, clinging to me while exhaling her relief.
I found myself bristling at the affection.
“You fucked up, G.”
“Jesse…” she whined.
Fuck. If this were a different scenario, the way she said my name might affect me.
“How, now, am I supposed to trust you in here when I’m sleepin’ and vulnerable?”
“What?” she whispered, looking horrified.
“I’m supposed to trust I can safely sleep beside you when you do shit like this?” I asked.
She shook her head with exasperation. “You know I’m worried about her. I’ve made that abundantly clear. This doesn’t mean you can’t trust me.”
“And if I’d let you grab that, what would you have said?”
“Nothing.”
“No? I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”
“She says she’s a-ok. That means there are eyes on her.”
“Explain.”
“We have codes for things.”
Her revealing this to me was surprising.
She kept explaining, “Her being a-ok is that she’s got someone watching what she’s texting or suspects someone will check her phone.”
“Why have you two devised a coding scheme if you’re above board?”
She shook her head sharply. “Our code was devised when we were teenagers. We grew up tryin’ to get away with stuff between our parents and then Aunt Francie when she took us in. We had systems to stop us gettin’ in shit.” She moistened her lips and then dropped her voice low, adding, “Sometimes it even worked.”
“You said your dad left you by yourself,” I accused.
“For a few years after my folks split, yeah, I moved in when my mom did time. She got out and didn’t want me back, but around the time of the chained to the radiator while Dad was in jail incident, he met Kailey’s mom. They got married a while later and she looked after us. Until they split and she took us with her. Even me. But then she died in a car crash when we were teenagers and my aunt mostly looked after the both of us. Mostly. When she wasn’t pissed off and kicking us out. Anyway…can I message her back?”
Talk about a verbal diarrhea dump.
“Please, Jesse?”
“And say what? What code you using to let her know you’re all right?”
“That I’m a-ok too.”
