“No. Not at all.”
“What, you’ve been here for a year, and now that it affects you personally, you’ve suddenly grown a conscience?”
I don’t argue, because there’s some truth in what he was saying. Maybe I’ve been willfully ignorant, because looking too close at things and asking questions has always been something I was told not to do growing up, and maybe I brought that into adulthood.
But I’m done being that person.
“Teach me.”
His brow furrows. “Teach you what?”
“How to fight. How to defend myself.” I force strength into my voice. “I don’t want to be the girl hiding in the dark, too scared to do anything. I don’t want to be a victim.”
He stares at me for a long moment.
Then he laughs. A short, dismissive sound that makes my blood heat.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He crosses his arms. “You’re not built for it.”
“You don’t know what I’m built for.”
“I know you ran through the woods last night like a scared rabbit.” His eyes are hard now, any trace of softness from the night before completely gone. “That’s not a fighter. That’s prey.”
“Fuck you.”
“See? There it is.” He points at me and takes a step closer. “That temper. You think anger makes you dangerous? It doesn’t. It makes you sloppy. Predictable. Easy to take down.”
“I’m not asking for a lecture. I’m asking you to teach me.”
“And I said no. Go take a kickboxing class. Buy some pepper spray. But don’t come to me thinking I’ll be your knight in shining armor.”
“Then why are you even here?” I yell, anger burning hot in my veins.
“Don’t confuse obligation with me giving a shit, Genevieve.”
I step back like he’s shoved me.
“You know what? I want you to leave.”
He sighs. “Half-Pint…”
My pulse is pounding, and my eyes are burning, and I grab my phone and raise it like a weapon. “Leave, Lance. Or I’ll call the cops and tell them you broke in.”
“You know what? Fine.” He drops the paper bag on the table and storms to the door. “And next time someone hunts you down in the middle of the night, call them then, too.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m standing on my doorstep, my nails biting into my palms, and my entire body vibrating with fury.
Don’t confuse obligation with giving a shit.
Fine. I won’t.
I slam the door. The blanket he draped over me last night isstill on the bed, soft and warm and smelling like him. I grab it and hurl it across the room and scream as it lands in a heap by the window.
Don’t go digging.
