Page 54 of Homestead

I’m not sure if anyone believes me, and it makes me feel even more weak and helpless than usual.

So by the time Jimmy finally drags himself from his work, dirty and exhausted, I’m not feeling particularly soft or sympathetic toward him.

I don’t say a word about my feelings as I help him clean up, and then we say goodbye to his parents. I smile and interact in my normal manner and don’t pull away from Jimmy when he puts a hand on my back as we leave the house.

We walk in silence for several minutes.

He’s tired—I know he is. He’s done hard manual labor all day. I’m not going to lay into him right now just because I’ve been holding back my annoyance all day.

“You mad?” he asks at last, giving me a long sidelong look.

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re actin’ mad.”

I take a deep breath and release it. “I’m not acting mad in any way.”

“Well, you’re pretendin’ not to be. You’re always real sweet and givin’ and polite. But usually you mean it, and right now you don’t. You think I can’t tell the difference?”

I was hoping he couldn’t. I swallow hard and force a smile up at him, using the last of my restraint not to blow up at him.

“Shit, woman, you might as well just let me have it. That’s the scariest smile I ever seen in my life.”

He probably means what he’s saying, but there’s also a teasing note underlying the words. He’s trying to lighten the mood. He’s trying to make me laugh.

And that just makes me even angrier.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” I grit out, staring ahead of us as we walk because the sight of him is annoying me even more.

“Okay. I get it.”

“No, I really don’t think you do.”

He comes to an abrupt stop and reaches for my shoulders to turn me around to face him. When I stare at his dirty, sweaty shirt, he lifts my chin to make me meet his eyes. “Sotellme. If I don’t get it, then tell me!”

My cheeks are blazing. I’m shuddering with reined-in feelings. I’m amazed I’m able to keep my voice as cool and clipped as it is when I reply, “I don’t like how you’re treating me.”

“I’m just tryin’ to get you to talk to me!”

“I don’t mean right now. I mean today. I don’t like it. It upsets me.”

His face twists. Surprise and reluctance both. “You’re serious? You’re still pissed that I wouldn’t leave you alone all day with no protection?”

I pull myself out of the hand he’s still holding my shoulder with. “Yes. I’m still pissed. Did you think it was a little thing?”

“What the hell do you expect after what happened yesterday?”

“I expect you to be reasonable! To let me live my life. To do my job. You taught me how to use my gun, so I expect you not to treat me like some sort of child who’s incapable of taking care of herself.”

He’s gaping at me, clearly stunned and outraged by my passionate declaration. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yes, I’m serious! I can’t believe you’re actually surprised. I get that this world is dangerous, but everyone else is managing to make do. So why do I need to be hauled around like a helpless baby? Why can’t I be treated like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not everyone else,” he rasps out. “How the fuck can you think I’d ever treat you like everyone else?”

I hug my arms to my chest, squeezing tight, trying desperately to hold in sobs. If I want to be treated like a capable adult, the last thing I need to do is burst into tears. “I know I used to be mostly useless, but I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve been working really hard. I don’t think I’m so useless any?—”

“Course you aren’t useless!” He sounds angrier now. Indignant. Not quite so stunned. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

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