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I freeze and lock eyes with him.
“You have two phones?” he asks, confused, knowing full well Louise brought my phone over yesterday, and it’s in the bag he is currently holding.
“Yes. Now give me my bag and leave. I don’t need you to babysit me anymore.” I hold out my hand to take the bag, but he doesn’t pass it to me.
“Tell me where you want it, and I’ll carry it in.”
“It’s not that heavy.” I give him my best eye roll.
He steps closer until our toes are almost touching.
My phone rings again, and I groan.
“You can get that.” He nods inside.
“No, it can wait.”
“Why do you have two phones?” Zuko asks.
I reach for the bag and pull it from his grasp. “That’s none of your business. Now, please go.” His eyes flick to the bag I’m currently holding, then back to me.
“I’ll be back to check on you.”
“No, you won’t. Go away.”
“I either come back to check on you, or I find Sarah. Pick one.”
Arghh. Really?
“You’re bluffing.”
“I amnota man who bluffs. Tell menow, or Iwillfind that bitch and show her exactly how to use a knife.” His words send a shiver over my body. He lifts a hand to my shoulder, and I’m not going to lie, Iwillmiss his touch. It’s soothed me more than he knows. And that’s saying something coming from me.
It’s not my love language. And the older I get, I’m starting to understand myself a little more. I tried to pinpoint a time in my life where I could work out why I hated it. But I can’t; maybe it’s because I never received much of it. Or maybe it’s’ because I simply hate it.
“You can come back if you bring me dinner. And then you can go.”
“I can help you sleep,” he offers.
“I slept fine last night,” I remind him.
“Yeah, that’s because I was touching you the whole time.”
“I’ve gone my whole life without you, Zuko. I’ll be fine.” I grip the door, and my phone starts ringing again. “Goodbye.” He steps back, and I shut the door in his face. Dropping the bag to the floor, I hurry over to the phone and switch it off.
“It’s a nice place you have here.” My body freezes atthatvoice. “I’m glad you got rid of him. He was quite the unpleasant man. Threatening to stab me.” I turn to find Sarah leaning against my bedroom door with an ugly twist to her lips. Her eyes scan me up and down. “Jeff told me about what happened. Poor you. But you seem to be doing fine.”
She glances at her nails and then back to me. “This is going to be fun. You really thought you had the upper hand, didn’t you? That you, of all people, would win. Tell me, Alaska, when does someone likeyouever win?” She chuckles as feet carry her to me until she is standing directly in front of me. I go to pull my hand back to hit her, but she punches me at the same time, straight in my stomach where the stitches are.
That hurt—a lot.
I double over in pain.
But as I do, I swing my arm up and hit her right between the legs. She screams and stumbles back.
“Fucking hell, I should have brought the gun.” I see her white shoes step closer to me, but I run straight to my kitchen, where I know all my cutlery is located, including the knives. Ripping open the drawer, I find one straight away and wrap my fingers around the handle. When I spin back toward her, she’s at the door.
“Toodles, bitch.” She pulls the door open and runs. As soon as I know she’s gone, I stumble to the door, knife still clutched in my hand, and check outside. With no sign of her, I shut and lock the door.
