Page 8 of Home Game

I heard his bedroom door shut and then I heard the faint sound of him talking.

I jack-knifed to a sitting position.A figure stood over me. A cry pulled out of me.

“Zoey, it’s just me. Ryan.”

Disoriented, I cowered away from his voice. Right. I was in Ryan’s apartment. On his couch. My gaze flew to his hands. They were empty. No weapons. No rope. I looked frantically around the room. No gun. Everything was like it was before.

I let myself relax a fraction. “I must have fallen asleep.”

He walked away from me. “You were out cold. The food’s here.”

I sat up slowly, dizzy. The most amazing smells filled the room. “I missed the take-out guy.”

He was standing at the island. “Doesn’t matter. I got the door. Come on. While it’s hot.”

He was unwrapping the most amazing looking burgers I had ever seen.

“Want a plate?” He turned away toward the cupboard. If I didn’t eat now, I might die. I reached forward, picked up a burger that was almost as big as my head and took a bite. I moaned as fabulous flavors exploded in my mouth. My eyes drifted shut as I savored it. This was heaven.

I opened my eyes. He stood there, watching me.

“What?” my mouth was full.

“Nothing. You like your burger?”

Was he kidding? It was to die for. This might be the best burger I have ever had in my life. I would commit a crime for this burger. “It’s okay.”

He shoved a plate in front of me and then dumped a bag of yam fries on my plate. He also pushed a salad towards me.

We ate in silence. Finally, when I could eat no more, I sat back and took a deep breath. “I love eating.”

“I can tell. There is a second burger here for you.”

I eyed it. I would dream about that uneaten burger for months to come but after my fries and my salad, I couldn’t eat another bite. My body would physically not allow it. “I can’t.”

“Can I ask you something?” he looked at me.

“You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“You’re homeless?”

“Yes, Captain Obvious.”

He cleared his throat and his gaze was honest. “Why don’t you get a job?”

Was this guy for real? “I have a job.”

He looked shocked. “You do?”

“Yes. I work in a restaurant.” Restaurant was a stretch. I was actually the drive-thru chick for a local fast food place.

He looked baffled.

“I make minimum wage. Even full-time, I’m lucky if I clear $1300 a month. And you can’t make rent on that and eat. So, I choose food.”

He looked genuinely horrified. “What about your family?”

“Dead. I aged out the month I turned 19.”

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