Page 82 of A Favor Owed

“Don’t touch me,” I say, stepping back.

“Let me just get the glass so you don’t get hurt.”

Too late. I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been in my life. The fact that he knows that, because he knows me so well, adds a thick layer of humiliation to the hurt.

Also, one of the shards pierced my skin and it’s bleeding. “Fuck.”

“Don’t run water on it yet. Let me make sure there’s no more glass on you.”

“I’ll do it. Stay away from me.” I go over to the sink and carelessly rinse my hand, aware of Brady’s eyes on me as he cleans up the glass on the floor. I wrap a towel around my bleeding hand and head toward the bedroom. I wanted to do this in private so he couldn’t fight me, but that obviously isn’t happening.

“Angie.”

He stands in the doorway, watching me shove clothes and toiletries into my bags.

“I didn’t know you when Lou asked me to do this,” he says, his voice calm, a plea for me to be calm, too.

“Shut up,” I say.

“I love you, Angela. I would never do anything to hurt you. If you would just—”

“For once in your life, Brady, stop talking.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Where are you going?”

“Lizette’s.”

“No way, Angela.”

“Yes way, Brady.”

“You’re not staying in that shithole. I’ll leave, Ange. That was the deal. I’ll leave right now. You stay here.”

That’s actually a better idea. It’ll give me the opportunity to pack up and leave without him hovering.

“Fine. Get out.”

“First let me take a look at your hand, okay?”

I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to talk to me. There’s only one thing I want at this moment, and it’s to get as far away from Brady McDaniels and his freckles and green eyes as fast as I can.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brady

I was six years old when the Towers fell. I was sitting outside in the sun on our tiny balcony that faced a brick courtyard, doing my fire engine puzzle while my mom made me some oatmeal. I had a dentist appointment, so I was missing school that morning, and it felt like a special day.

I heard the phone ring in the kitchen and my mom answer. “What! Oh my God, Brendan! Are you coming home first, hon? Jesus. Be careful, okay? I’m gonna turn on the news. I love you.”

I left my puzzle and went inside. I found my mom in the living room, standing in front of the television, staring at the screen.

“Is Daddy coming home?”

“Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “Yes, but he has to work a few extra hours this morning first.”

“What’s that?” I pointed at the television.

“It’s a fire,” she said. “A big fire down at the World Trade Center.”

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