“Iamdealing with it,” she fires back. “Just like I’ve been dealing with everything onmy ownfor most of my damn life.”
“The point I’m trying to make is you don’t have to do it alone.”
I exhale through my nose and try again.
“The apartment at my family’s place is the same place I grew up. It’s furnished with a bed, couch, kitchen. You name it. They use it as a guesthouse when family comes into town. You wouldn’t need to buy anything but maybe groceries. You wouldn’t be cold, sleeping on a fuckin’ air mattress. And you wouldn’t have to worry about who’s in the alley behind your place at night.”
Her grip tightens on her keys.
“I’m not moving in with you,” she says quietly.
“You wouldn’t be,” I counter back. “I’m not even there half the time. I live at the hockey house. It’s separate from the main house, and it’s private.”
She studies me like she’s waiting for me to fill her in on the fine print.
“For how long?”
“As long as you need,” I say, then correct myself quickly to be convincing. “Short term. Just until we figure out who was behind the other night and you get on your feet. The end of the semester, if you want.”
That part is true.
I already know I’m negotiating with her. Framing every word carefully, saying whatever I have to say to get her somewhere safe. We can argue about the rest of it later.
“I don’t need you looking at me like some kind of charity case.”
That almost makes me feel worse.
“This isn’t charity, Brinley, and you know that,” I say. “It’s a favor. One I’d offer to anyone.”
That’s a lie.
I wouldn’t offer this to just anyone. I wouldn’t be standing out here arguing in what looks like a thunderstorm rolling through with anyone else either.
She stares at me for a long moment, conflict flickering behind her eyes. I can see how much she hates feeling cornered, and the implication that she can’t handle this on her own.
I hate that I’m the one doing this to her too.
“I’m not trying to upset you,” I say, stepping closer to her, quieter now. “I just… I don’t want to wait until something worse happens and wish I’d said and done more.”
That’s the truth.
The wind cuts between us, rattling the tape hanging off the edge of her bumper.
She doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no either.
She just stands there, keys clenched in her fist, staring at the ground.
I watch her turn and climb inside her car, shutting the door with a loud click.
The engine rattles to life. She hesitates before putting it in gear, and I hear the window groan as she lowers it a minute later.
The fight drains out of her shoulders a little at a time.
“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Okay?”
I nod once. “Okay.”
“I have to work,” she adds. “I really do need to get going.”
