“You don’t have to leave because of me.”
“Yes, I do,” I said quietly, although firmly. I kept my head down as my feet carried me to the front door. As soon as I was in the clear, I bolted for my house.
* * *
Poundingon the front door pulled me from my restless sleep. Muscle memory had me reaching over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty. I sat up and waited to see if whoever it was went away.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Pulling my gun from my nightstand drawer, I checked the chamber and held it by my side as I tip-toed down the stairs. It took a solid two minutes for me to find the courage to peek through the peephole.
When I saw who was on the other side of the door, I was pissed. “What the hell are you doing here?” I shouted.
“Open the door.”
“No. Go away.”
“I just want to talk to you for a minute,” he said, and something in his voice, maybe a hint of a plea, had me slowly cracking the door open.
“This is as open as it’s going to get. Talk.”
“I’m sorry. About last night.”
“Sorry about what? Carrying me out of the bar? Fucking me? Fucking me like a whore? Walking away while you were still zipping up your pants? What exactly are you sorry for?” I spat and, damn, it felt good to release some of my anger.
He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “All of it.”
I waited for more, but it became clear he didn’t have anything else to add. “Huh, usually excuses follow an apology,” I observed.
“I have reasons, not excuses.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“A reason is an explanation. An excuse is an attempt to justify.”
“Okay, well, um, goodnight,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
He snorted. “You’re not going to ask what my reasons are?”
I shook my head. “No, because I have reasons too, and I don’t want to talk about them.”
He gave me a curt nod. “Goodnight.” I hadn’t noticed how he was leaning against the column on my front porch until he straightened. When he turned to leave, he swayed and reached for the column again to steady himself.
“You’re drunk,” I said, stating the obvious.
He looked back at me over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not, and you know it. Come inside, and I’ll make you some coffee,” I said and opened the door without a second thought.
“You know how to use that thing?” he asked and nodded at the firearm in my hand.
“Yes.”
“Is the safety on?”
