But if he did,he could’ve fucking said so.
Like a normal human being who can communicate with words when he scares the ever-loving shit out of the woman staying in his house—at his invitation—and his freaking dog too.
Jessica whimpers and pushes her body against my leg. I’m still standing at the door, ready to fight back if he tries to get in.
And there it is?—
Clomp.
Clomp.
Clomp.
And a knock.
“Go away,” I say. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“I need to take a piss.”
The right thing to do is to let him into my bedroom to use the bathroom. He gave me the best bedroom in the house. I’ve had a lovely three weeks here. He’s injured.
But logic and being scared shitless aren’t mixing well. “You should’ve thought of that before you were the kind of asshole who didn’t tell your house sitter you were coming home in the middle of the damn night.”
Jessica snorts in agreement.
“Use the bathroom downstairs,” I add.
He doesn’t answer.
And I do my damn best to not feel bad when I hear the clomps of his crutches on the stairs.
Nope.
I won’t feel bad.
He did this to himself.
A decent person would’ve called or texted.
He did neither.
He can touch grass. Preferably grass that his dog has recently peed on.
Jessica makes a muffled snort that I’ve come to think of as herit’s okay, Ziggy, I’m here for yousnuffle.
The clomping stops, or at least drifts far enough away that I can’t hear it anymore.
I do hear the downstairs bathroom door shut.
At least, I think that’s the downstairs bathroom door. It’s right under my bedroom. The sound came from the right place.
Guilt hits me again.
There’s a bedroom downstairs. It’s locked, so I shouldn’t know it’s a bedroom, but it’s beneath the hall bathroom and the lock was easy enough to pop. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t water leaking onto the ceiling down there.
It looked comfortable. Big bed. White bedding. Cozy blue chair in the corner. Pictures of Holt with a slightly smaller man who looked just like him, and who I assume was his brother. In one picture, they were on a fishing boat holding up matching fish. There was another with Holt in a team jersey, sweaty and hot with his arm wrapped around his brother with crowded stands in the background.
And there were no water stains on the ceiling, so I made myself leave and lock the door again behind me.
