Page 13 of Stryker

Stunned, I stared at him. “And that changed because…?”

Both his eyebrows lifted. “Because you’re a good person and life has been hard as hell on you.”

“You couldn’t possibly know if I’m a good person or not. For all you know I’m a serial puppy murderer.” I winced as I said the words, disgusted at the very idea.

“Convincing. Especially when just saying the words hurts you.” His lips curved into a grin and I glared at him.

“It didn’thurt.”

He arched an eyebrow at me.

“Okay, how did you know that?” I asked, suspicious. How could he possibly know what I feel? It wasn’t’ possible, but then again he’d said that dragons have skills they prefer not to discuss. If I could tell how people were feeling I’d consider that almost a form of mind reading; absolutely not a skill you’d want people to know you have.

Suddenly uneasy, I shifted in my seat. The kitchen barstool was comfortable, but I was not.

He opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. His brows met over a frown as he stared at his phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He nodded, glancing up at me quickly before holding up his phone. “I have to take this. Give me one moment,” he said.

I nodded and he walked toward the front door. Only after the door closed behind him did I hear him answer the call, though I couldn’t hear the words.

I watched him stand on the porch through the frosted glass on the front door, then focused on my coffee again. I wished I could find answers in the tiny bubbles clinging to the edges of the mug.

No matter how hard I thought about it, I kept winding up going in circles. If I didn’t work, I couldn’t pay the mortgage. I’d lose the house. Even if Stryker managed to get me an extended stay here, I didn’t have savings to use to cover the time off. Plus, Mom and Dad were so far away…

I took a drink of the coffee, burning every taste bud on my tongue. Sucking a cooling breath into my mouth, I blinked back tears. Could things get any worse? I mean, one small pleasure about being here was the chance to eat anything. And I’d just made sure I couldn’t taste anything for a week. Still, none of that mattered compared to my worry about Mom and Dad.

Pushing the coffee away, I lowered my head onto my arms on the bar. Tears slipped down my cheeks and dripped into my lap as I sat there on the barstool that was nicer than anything in my house.

I’m stronger than this. I’ve been through hell before and always found my way out before. I’ll figure this out too. Because I have no other choice. I can’t just give up; people are counting on me and that’s not in my nature anyway.

Sure, everything in my life might have turned upside down, but I’d get through it.

I straightened up and pawed at my tears. I’d found a soft sweater in the dresser in the room and wore it; now I felt bad I’d be smearing tears and snot on it. It was nicer than any clothing I’d ever owned.

I glanced at the door but didn’t see Stryker anywhere. Which was fine; I didn’t want him to see or hear me crying. I’d muffled myself last night with my pillow and he hadn’t said anything about hearing me crying last night when he poured my coffee, so I guessed it worked. Then again, after talking with him this morning, I had to wonder if I was wrong after all. Maybe he could read my mind or whatever. Maybe read my emotions. I sure as heck hoped not, because some of the feelings I’d had for him were not safe for work.

My cheeks stung. Sheesh, I hoped he didn’t know about that part. I’d die of embarrassment if he found out about that or my total lack of experience in the relationship and sex departments.

I took a more cautious sip of my coffee this time. Perfect. With coffee in my belly, I felt certain I could take on the world. There might be hard choices to make, but I’d make them with my head held high. I’d find a way to make things work.

But even with my newfound sense of bravado, the thought of losing my childhood home I’d worked so hard to protect cut me to the bone. The thought of losing everything, pictures, memories, the notches on the doorframe that they’d made to measure my growth… fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.

It was all just stuff. Nothing could take the actual memories from me.

I’ve been through hard stuff before. Maybe not this hard. But I’d get through his all the same. Just because my life was falling apart didn’t mean I could crumble.

Instead, I was going to relax, regain my strength, try to come up with a game plan, and be grateful for every opportunity like I’d always done.

Picking up my coffee, I headed into the living room and settled before the TV. I turned it on, wondering if my father was watching TV at this very moment too. I wondered if they were having fun. If they missed me as much as I missed them. Were they thinking about me or just having fun?

Was my father mad at me? Did he hate me after the things I’d said?

With those questions eating me up inside, I turned on a show and lost myself in someone else’s world while escaping my own for a little bit.

8

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