Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
I still take a cursory look around the basement to be on the safe side, but finally give up the search with a resigned sigh. Was it another nightmare? I thought she was over those. Resentment rushes into my throat and threatens to choke me before I remind myself that a person doesn't choose what they dream about. If they did, my own dreams would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with.
When I reach the kitchen again and close the basement door, it's not the new, unscarred table I see. It's not the new counters or the clean wood floor. I see the past layered on top of the present. I see a woman on her hands and knees, scrubbing a red stain from yellowed tile while tears run down her face and drip into the mess.
"Romero?" The sound is barely a whisper floating through the air, but it pops the illusion and leaves me standing in the dark again. "Are you okay?"
"What did I tell you?" I demand as I cross the living room, then glare up the stairs. She's staring down at me from the hallway, arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth from her heels to the balls of her feet.
"You were taking so long, I got worried." Once I start up, she wanders back to my room and sits at the foot of the bed. The sight of her troubled face loosens my irritation, but only a little. "Did you find anything? Was somebody trying to break in?"
"Everything looks fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I checked the windows, the doors, everything. There's nothing suspicious."
Her frown deepens to a scowl. "Oh."
I lean against the door frame, folding my arms. "You sound disappointed."
That does the trick. Tatum rolls her eyes, scoffing, but at least she's not so scared anymore. "I'm just saying, I know what I heard. I'm not imagining things."
"The house can be noisy. The pipes clank and the floor creaks. That's probably what you heard. Or a gust of wind rattled the storm door a little too hard.
"I guess so."
"Maybe you were having a bad dream, and it was still with you when you woke up."
She looks at the floor, lifting her shoulder before mumbling, "I guess." Meanwhile, she picks at the blanket underneath her and her toes tap the floor. She's too nervous to sit still.
"What's really happening? What aren't you telling me?"
"Why do you always have to jump to conclusions?"
"You come in here looking scared half to death and tell me you heard something downstairs. Now, even when I tell you there's nothing, you're jumpy and fidgeting."
"Wow. You can dissect everything, can't you?" But even that is half hearted, without the bitterness she usually hurls at me. I almost miss it. At least then, she's being herself.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"No."
Is this what it's like, dealing with a toddler? She's fucking determined to make me hurt her. "So you're this jumpy because you heard the house settling and jump to the wrong conclusion?" I grit out.
In the darkness, her eyes find a way to sparkle—or is she fighting back tears. "You know when I went to the store the other day?" I nod. "I thought some guy was following me around on the street."
The hair on the back of my neck instantly rises, and my hands flex, ready to take her by the shoulders and shake her like a rag doll. Maybe that would shake some sense into that thick skull of hers. "Are you fucking serious? And you're only telling me about this now? That was, what, three days ago? Four?"
"It's not like he followed me the whole way home," she fires back. "I don't even know for sure that he was following me. I just thought he was. I was freaked out."
"And that's why you asked about self-defense lessons." I've been too busy to think about it since that night. The request seemed to come from out of nowhere, and when she never mentioned it again, I figured it was a whim. Something she came up with because she was bored, like the job thing that went nowhere.
"I figured it would give me a little more confidence. Maybe if I could trust myself to react the right way, I wouldn't be so afraid of random people."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because of this." She waves a hand at me and wrinkles her button nose. "This whole thing you do. Getting all growly and pissed off and talking to me like I'm a child."
"It's childish not to tell somebody the full story."
"I figured you would call me paranoid or jump down my throat. Either way, I didn't feel like dealing with it. Sue me."
That's it. I'm going to shake Tatum until her head falls off. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"So damned determined to undermine me."