Her shoulders drop immediately, as though the weight of those words are pressing her down.
“I hate to increase it. Really, I do. But I haven’t had any luck renting out the other side of the duplex, and things are tight. Francine’s hours got cut last year, and next fall I’ll have two kids in university.” He rubs the back of his neck, weary. “It’s either raise your rent or sell.”
This hits her like an aftershock. Her whole frame trembles for a heartbeat before she steadies herself, spine straightening by sheer willpower. “Of course. I understand.” She casts me a quick, furtive glance over her shoulder, before turning back to him with a steadying smile. “I’m just in the middle of a training session. Could I call you as soon as I’m done?”
“Absolutely.” He nods quickly, probably eager to get away from me. “Again, I’m very sorry for how I came in here. You’re an excellent tenant, Elliot. I hate to put this on you, especially with everything else you’ve got going on.”
“I understand,” she says again, quickly, her hands fluttering in a small wave, as though she could brush the whole conversation aside like dust.
Glen leaves quietly, a far cry from the way he barged in. The air seems to breathe easier once the door clicks shut.
“Sorry about all that.” Elliot laughs, but the sound is thin, brittle, stripped of her usual warmth. She won’t look at me, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder as if she wants to pretend none of this just happened.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” I want to reach for her, to make her hear how much I mean it. She shouldn’t carry the weight of his behaviour, not for a second.
“Let’s get back to the session?” She aims for brisk, professional, but she’s struggling.
I hesitate. My mind is still spinning, the mere thought of her flinching under his voice enough to set me burning again. But I school my tone. “Sure. I just have to grab something from my car.”
Her eyes flick to mine, suspicious. “Oh?”
“Just an exercise band I brought from home. I like the tension better than the ones you’ve got here.”
She feigns offence, lips curving in a small, weary smirk. “Rude.”
It almost works—almost makes me forget how close she came to being cornered by that bastard. I shove my feet into my shoes and slip out the door, silent as a shadow.
So silent that the landlord doesn’t notice me until I’m right beside him.
“Jesus!” Glen jolts, nearly going down on a slick patch of ice. His arms flail for balance.
“Just grabbing something from my car,” I say evenly. He stares like he expects me to come back with a weapon or a body bag.
I glance toward the house, confirming what I already knew—Elliot is watching at the window making sure I don’t decapitate him. I open the passenger side door and lean in, fingers closingaround the resistance band lying in plain sight, but I don’t pull it out yet.
“What’s the rent on the place next door?” I ask casually, eyes fixed on the glove compartment.
“What?”
“The rent,” I repeat, sharper. “On the other half of the duplex.”
“Oh. Uh, it’s…two thousand a month.”
High, I think, considering the cracked siding and dated windows, but about right for the neighbourhood.
“I haven’t raised Elliot’s rent in two years,” he blurts quickly, like the confession might soften me.
“Do you have a card?”
He blinks. “Excuse me?”
“A business card. Some way for me to find you.”
His throat works hard, the swallow so loud it cuts the cold air between us. “Why would you want to find me?”
Am I really that terrifying? I rein in the sigh crawling up my throat. “To contact you,” I deadpan. “I may know someone interested in renting the other half.”
Shock flickers across his face, then morphs into something more hopeful. “Really?”
