Never Let You Go(44)

“Never bothered you before,” he says with a curious look, and I laugh it off, then lean in for a kiss so he doesn’t worry, but he’s right. I used to tell him he looked like a sexy grown-up Boy Scout in his UPS uniform, and I liked when he’d fix things around my house—but now it all reminds me of Andrew. He was always puttering around on the weekend, trying to make our house safer, which was ironic. I can’t stop wondering when he is going to move to town. He could already be here. I could run into him at the store, the gas station, anywhere.

Greg leaves after dinner and Sophie and I wrap presents and stack them under the tree and watch Elf while eating popcorn, but I know she’s forcing herself to smile and laugh for my sake. She didn’t draw all day, just flipped through the channels on TV or played on her phone.

“We need to do something fun,” I say.

“You’re taking us to Mexico?” she says. “I can be packed in five minutes.”

I feel the sting, but I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She doesn’t know what happened in Mexico, how her father scared me. For years I told myself that I would take Sophie to Cancún again one day, just the two of us. We would do it right. Then, when I finally had enough money saved, I was too afraid of the memories. Something else I let him take away from me.

“Ha. But you’re giving me an idea.…”

Greg usually watches hockey Sunday nights, so I invite Marcus over. I’d feel safer with some male company, but that’s not what I tell him. I say, “You never let me pay anything for using your gym. Please let me do something nice?” He arrives with a case of Mexican beer and spicy dark chocolate for dessert. I roast corn and black beans and barbecue chicken for the quesadillas while Marcus makes salsa and guacamole. We work well together. Our shoulders brushing as we move around the kitchen, handing each other items from the fridge.

Marcus entertains us through the meal with stories of traveling in Europe and Africa, like the time he was nearly left behind on a safari. Sophie laughs hysterically when he shares that he ate termites and other local delicacies, wrinkles her nose when he describes how they crunched and their tiny legs caught in his teeth. I’m glad he came over. It’s just what we needed.

After dinner, Sophie heads upstairs to do some homework. Marcus and I have decaf coffee at the table, nibbling on the chocolate. I tell him Andrew was in my house and that the police are delivering a summons to him but I haven’t heard whether they found him,

“Why didn’t you call?” he says.

“I didn’t want to drag you into my drama.”

“Promise you’ll call next time,” he says in a firm voice.

“It might be hard if I’m running for my life.” I smile.

“That’s not funny.”

I sigh. “I know. I’m just trying to deal with all this.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“No. I’ve signed up to take my gun safety course, but then I have to apply for a firearms license. They probably won’t approve it once they find out about Andrew.” Canadian gun laws are strict, especially when it comes to domestic violence, which I used to appreciate. I’d never liked guns, even though my father had them when I was growing up, and I hated that Andrew had them when Sophie was little, but now I wished I had one stashed in every room of our house.

“Maybe I should try to get a gun, like from the black market,” I say.

“Whoa. That’s risky.”

“What’s risky is sitting around waiting for him to make a move.”

“I’ll put out some feelers, okay? I know people through my self-defense classes.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“I’d rather help than have you accidentally buy one from a cop.”

“That would be just my luck.” I flick a glance out the window, searching the shadows. “I hope they find him soon.”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


SOPHIE



He’s called three times but I haven’t answered or listened to the voice mails. I have a twisty feeling in my stomach, like hunger and the flu mixed together. I rub at the knot, but it doesn’t go away. We were supposed to meet today, but I texted him first thing and said I had too much homework, which is a lie because it’s the last week before winter break and we’re all coasting right now, except for Delaney, who failed a test and has to do a makeup project.

I’m sitting outside after school, waiting for her. I glance up, check the street. I keep getting this feeling that Andrew’s going to look for me. This is what it must feel like for Mom. I was so stupid to let him back in our lives. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all weekend, how he’d been in our house. This morning I woke up with a giant headache. Like Mondays aren’t crappy enough with chemistry first period. Now I have to deal with trying to avoid my stalker dad. My cell chirps. This time it’s a text from Delaney: B a while. Have to finish this stupid project!

I text back: K, I’ll catch the bus. I walk down the street toward the public bus stop, wishing I had my bike. It’s starting to snow and the road is covered with slush and my feet are getting wet. I wrap my scarf around my neck and face and hunch my shoulders in my coat. I feel a vehicle slow beside me, glance over, and catch a flash of white. I’m too scared to look all the way, but I’m pretty sure it’s Andrew’s truck. I walk faster. Shit. Shit. Shit. I should have stayed at the school. I fumble for my phone in my pocket. Who do I call? What do I say?