Repeat(4)

“Finish up your drink.” He tips his chin at the glass. “I’ll give you a lift back to Frances’s place. We’ll stop by a shop on the way and get you some things.”

It’s an interesting idea. And he seems like a nice man, one who used to care about me. But from what little he said about the breakup, it sounds as if it was a special level of hell. Despite his assurances, he might very well have cheated on me. Crushed my heart. Torn apart my life. Shit like that.

After all, what would a cheater say?

“You should have a can of mace on you too, given they haven’t caught the bastard who did this to you. One of those keyring ones.” He pulls some money out of his wallet, setting it on the table. Then he stops. “What?”

“Just thinking.”

“Yeah?” He cocks his head, a lock of brown hair falling over one of his eyes. “What about?”

“Lots of things,” I say. “You’re being very helpful all of a sudden. It makes me suspicious. I mean, why would you even want to be friends with me, given our past?”

“I have no interest in being your friend.”

“Oh?”

“Trust me, that’s definitely not going to happen.” He settles back, watching me with a faint smile. Holy crap, his smile . . . it’s just a bit mean yet still wholly affecting.

I squirm in my seat. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “Clem, you fucked me up. You fucked us up. And I’m not going to forgive you for that whether you remember doing it or not. But nobody deserves to be assaulted and have their mind messed with. So I’ll answer your questions, make sure you’ve got a cell and something to protect yourself with. Then you’re on your own.”

“You’re only helping me today?”

“No, that’s why I’m giving you my number. Like I said, you think of a question you need answered, you can text me and I’ll answer it for you if I can.”

“I can text you with any questions.” If he wants to define any future interactions, I can work with that. “But that’s all.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” I nod. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“One or the other is fine. You don’t need to say both.”

I smile, nervous again for some reason. “Yeah, I just . . . never mind.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, sliding out of the booth. Which means he wants to go now. I don’t know why people don’t just say what they mean.

I finish off the margarita, then wipe the salt off my lips. When I catch Ed watching, he turns away with a sharp sort of motion. Odd. For a big man, his movements have been mostly fluid, almost graceful. Guess he really wants to get rid of me. Can’t say I blame him.



*



“Hey, how was your day?” Frances flops down onto the other end of the couch with a bottle of water in her hand. “You got a phone?”

“Yeah. I was careful when I went out,” I say, heading off the next inevitable question before it can be asked.

“Good.”

My sister would probably be happiest if I’d hide at home for the rest of my life, staying safe and sound. Bubble-wrapping me isn’t out of the question. But it’s never going to happen. I need my freedom, the space to figure out my life for myself.

She picks up the TV remote and starts flicking through the channels. Some drama about people on a spaceship, the evening news, a woman singing about a dude named Heathcliff, and a tennis match. Finally, she settles on a wildlife documentary.

“Poor gazelle,” she mumbles, taking a sip of water. “What did you want to do for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“Again?” she asks with a smile.

I’m working my way through the local pizza place’s menu, figuring out my favorite. It’s taken a week, but I’ve got it narrowed down to either the pumpkin, spinach, and feta, or the tomato, basil, and mozzarella. For some reason, the vegetarian options appeal to me more. Sometimes I get a bit fixated on things. Happily, pizza has been one of those things.

“I met Ed today,” I say.

Her whole body tenses. “You did?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Because he broke your heart.” She sets down the water bottle, turning sideways to face me. “Clem, you were a mess, absolutely miserable, crying all the time. It was almost worse than right after Mom died. With everything that’s happened, the last thing you need is him back in your life. The one silver lining of this whole disaster has been that you’ve been able to stop tearing yourself up about it.”

“He says he didn’t cheat on me.”

She sighs. “I honestly have no idea about that. In the month leading up to the attack, you refused to talk about him or what went down between you two. So basically, I was just following your wishes.”

“Hmm.”

“You were crazy about the man. Can’t imagine you’d have left him without a damn good reason.”

Was Ed the type to cheat? Thing is, he didn’t appear to be lying, and watching people is kind of my thing these days. The things they try to hide. The things they’re not saying. What comes out of people’s mouths versus what they do is often way off. With Ed though, I hadn’t gotten that feeling. In fact, I’m not even sure he cares enough about what I think of him these days to lie. Not like the man would have too much trouble finding someone to take previous me’s place, if that’s what he’s after.