Sarah’s phone vibrates, buzzing a frantic staccato as her phone dances across the table. She doesn’t move to answer it.
“Ma?” I guess.
She nods, lets the phone ring itself out. Then she finally says, “If I go back, I’m dead. I don’t know where else to go. You’re the only person I trust.”
My heart gives a painful, hopeful squeeze. “If you want, I can help you find a safehouse or a friend.”
I get up and fetch a blanket, wrap it around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist. Her fingers tighten on the mug.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask. “Or just sit?”
“Sit,” she says. “For now.”
We sit, and I try not to think about the way her head would fit perfectly on my shoulder, or how much I want to run my fingers through her hair, just to see her relax. I remind myself that my job is to keep her safe, not to fall in love with her.
We don’t hear the first knock. Maybe it’s because we’re too deep in our own silence, or maybe the wind disguises it. The second is louder, more insistent, and it’s not a knock at all. It’s the blunt thud of a fist against wood.
Sarah freezes.
My own heartbeat speeds up, but I stand, move to the door.
She nods, shrinking into the blanket. The peephole shows nothing. I crack the door just a hair, keeping the chain in place.
It’s Dade.
His face is blotched and furious, an angry bandage crusted above his eyebrow. He looks bigger in daylight, his fists like slabs of meat, his chest swelling beneath a sweat-stained shirt. For a moment, he just glares at me, eyes small and bright.
“Where is she?” he growls.
I force my voice to stay calm, flat. “There’s no one here for you, Mr. Andrews.”
He grins, a flash of bad teeth. “Don’t play dumb, Father. You know she’s in there. I saw her get into your car after she left the house. The same car that’s parked right over there. He points a finger randomly over his shoulder in the general direction of the car park.”
I keep the chain tight, blocking the gap with my shoulder. “You need to leave, now.”
He laughs a sound that’s half-sputter, half-threat. “You fucking her? He shuffles his feet and looks like he wants to spit, “S’that what they payin’ you for?”
He tries to wedge his face closer into the gap, eyes darting past me. “You tell her to get her skinny ass out here right now, or I’ll come in and drag her out.”
Over my dead body.
I hear the scrape of a chair from the kitchen, but I don’t look back. I raise my voice just enough to be heard. “Sarah, stay where you are.”
Dade leans his weight on the door, testing the chain, which holds. “This is between me and my family, priest. Step aside.”
“I’m not going to do that.” My hand is shaking, but I keep my voice level.
He slams his fist into the door frame, making the chain rattle. “You think you scare me? I’ve been to church, Father. I know your kind.” He spits in the snow at his feet, a red streak against white. “Just give me my girl.”
Hisgirl?
Sarah belongs to me.
Dade tries another tactic, lowering his voice. “Sarah, baby, I just want to talk. Your ma’s worried sick. You don’t need to do this.”
Sarah speaks loudly from the kitchen. "Ma probably threatened to kick him out or starve him to death if he didn't come bring me back. I can't stand this back-and-forth with her or him. It's like she can't decide if she wants to be my mother or his wife. And he probably just wants me to be his new punching bag. I'm younger and can take his blows."
The distinct sound of breaking glass from the kitchen distracts our attention. I didn't even notice him move away from the door.
