But I’m not going to sit in it. I’m just going to lean past it. Grab the poker. Fix it. And he’ll never even know.
I brace one hand on the armrest and reach.
Not far enough.
I shift my weight, leaning further, and my knee bumps the seat cushion. Just barely. Just for a second.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The voice comes from behind me, low and dangerous.
I spin around.
Tolin is standing in the hallway entrance, wearing nothing but those low-slung pants. His torso heaves with each breath. His eyes are flashing gold at the edges, the bear pushing to the surface. And his face is twisted with a rage I haven’t seen before.
Not just anger. Fury.
“I was trying to put out the fire,” I say quickly. “It was too high, I was worried about?—“
“I told you not to touch my chair.”
“I didn’t sit in it, I just?—“
“You touched it.” He’s moving toward me now, each step heavy on the hardwood floor. “I gave you one rule. One fucking rule. And you couldn’t even follow that.”
“It was an accident. I was trying to?—“
“I don’t care what you were trying to do.” He stops a few feet away, towering over me, close enough that I can see the gold bleeding into his brown eyes. “You people are all the same. You come into my home, you touch my things, you act like you belong here when you don’t.”
I take a step back.
“I was trying to help,” I say, and I hate how small my voice sounds.
“I don’t need your help.” He’s almost snarling now. “I don’t need you here at all. You think one dinner and some mopping makes us friends? You think I give a shit about your cleaning or your cooking or whatever sad little attempt you’re making to get close to me?”
“Get close to you?” I stare at him. “I’m doing my job.”
“Your job.” He laughs, harsh and ugly. “Right. Because every cleaner researches her client’s dietary preferences. Because every employee cooks a special dinner and tries to make conversation.”
“I was being nice!”
“I don’t want nice!” His voice rises, bouncing off the cabin walls. “I don’t want you here, making my food and scrubbing my floors and sitting in my goddamn chair like you have any right to?—“
“I told you, I wasn’t sitting in it!”
“I don’t care!” He’s close now, so close I have to crane my neck to look at him. “I want you gone. I want all of you gone. Every employee Derrick sends, every person who thinks they can fix me or help me or whatever the fuck you think you’re doing here. I don’t need it. I don’t want it.”
My eyes are burning. I will not cry. I will not give him the satisfaction.
“Then why did you hire me?” My voice is shaking, but I force the words out. “Why did you pay double to get someone up here if you were just going to treat them like shit?”
“Because I made a promise I shouldn’t have kept.” His lip curls. “But don’t worry. I’m done pretending. Get out of my cabin. Get out of my sight. I don’t want to see your face again.”
Something snaps inside me.
“You know what?” I step toward him instead of away, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I don’t have to take this. I came up here knowing you were difficult. Knowing everyone else quit. I thought maybe if I just did my job and kept my head down, I could handle you. But this?” I gesture at him, at the rage on his face, at the whole miserable situation. “This is beyond difficult. This is cruel.”
“Careful.” His voice drops low.
