Twenty-Seven
TINY
MAY
"You tired?"
"A little. I pulled a long shift today. How’s the wound on your head feel?” I ask. Worried if I stitched Stone up properly after the incident.
“Totally fine thanks to you. It’s like it never happened.”
It's been a few weeks since the robbery attempt at the shop and while I'm not looking over my shoulder every ten seconds like I was before, I still feel discombobulated and confused.
The three of us almost lost our lives because of something they thought was in my father's safe, and he's so shook by it, that he refuses to discuss it. At least not with me. More than ever before, I want to leave this house.
"What do you usually do to relax?" he asks me.
"You already know what I do. Cook or bake. Watch TV. Read. Sometimes I go clubbing with my friends, but that's kind of quieted down since Elizabeth got pregnant."
"Who's Elizabeth?"
"She's one of my closest friends from college."
"I never hear you talk about her."
"I've been out of touch with my friends for a while. I work a lot. I like to keep busy."
"You're not running from me, are you?"
I'm a nurse. I know that something's wrong with me. I've been through something traumatic, and I'm having some difficulty processing it. Not only am I shaken by the fact that I almost died in a cold, damp cellar, but when I relive the whole thing, I bust out in tears when I think about how I almost watched Stone get shot in the head.
The only reason why I didn't totally lose it down there was because of the look he had on his face when that gun was being pressed into his temple.
He was calm.
Eerily calm.
And determined.
And in turn it gave me a sliver of hope that we could possibly make it out of there. Even if The Chosen Riders hadn't come, I know that Stone was prepared to fight each and every one of those criminals to the death if it came to that.
"Everything isn't always about you, Stone."
"I'm just saying. I can count on my hands the number of times you've been here in the last few weeks. You seeing somebody I don't know about?"
I could have sworn that he just asked that with a jealous edge to his voice, but Stone always has an edge to his voice. I chalk that up to me being pathetic and hearing what I want to hear.
"I didn't realize you were counting."
"I think you meant to say that you didn't realize I could count."
"I never said you were a moron."
"That was supposed to be a joke."
"Oh, well you're not good at them. Keep practicing."
I put down my things and begin to make myself a cup of coconut and mango herbal tea. It's one of my favorites.
