Page 10 of Axe-ing for Trouble
I willed the frustration to settle. It was time to lighten the moment. He probably already thought I was a complete headcase, showing up here the way I did and then sobbing in his bed.
“I have a question,” I said, keeping my tone easy. “Why Ripley? Is that a family name or something?”
He chuckled, dropping his chin to his chest. “No. Definitely not a family name.” With a stroke of the dog’s fur, he side-eyed me. “I named her after Ellen Ripley.”
“Who’s that? A musician?” As I asked, it suddenly hit me how terrible I must look. I was still covered in filth, and I could only imagine how wild my hair was.
He laughed again, the sound echoing off the walls and making my heart stumble a little. “Sorry.” He wiped at the smile on his face. “No, Ellen Ripley, the hero of theAlienfranchise.”
I frowned, confused. “Are those movies?”
His eyes bulged. “You’ve never seenAlien? Jesus, we’ve got to fix that. Screw getting checked by a doctor. Let’s have a movie marathon.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed his sarcasm. “Should I have seen them?”
“Yes. In addition to being my favorite movies, they’re pop culture touchstones. Were you one of those kids who read books instead of watching TV, Trouble?”
After the last twelve hours, the conversation was anything but appropriate, but I couldn’t deny that the levity was welcome.
“No. Not at all. I’ve seen lots of movies. My favorite isThe Princess Bride. I’ve seen it dozens of times and could quote it all day.”
“Interesting.” He crossed his arms, his biceps rippling.
The move made my mouth go dry. Or maybe it was my morning dragon breath. Either way, he was a sight to behold.
“How about I make breakfast while you get washed up?”
I nodded, suddenly desperate for a mirror.God, what he must think of me?“One more question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have any Pop-Tarts?”
His lips tipped up as he shook his head. “Uh, no. You realize they’re nothing but cancer and frosting, right?”
Incensed, I stuck my tongue out. “Pop-Tarts are fucking delicious, and they’re perfectly capable of being a balanced breakfast.”
He cracked a smile. “I’ve got eggs. How about an omelet? I can put spinach in.”
Fighting the instinct to gag, I scrunched my nose.
With a sigh, he stood. “How about chocolate chip pancakes? You’re in luck. I keep chocolate chips around for my nieces and nephew.”
I grinned. “Coffee too?”
“Of course. Just please rest.”
He insisted on helping me out of bed but thankfully left me alone while I attempted to pee. Since the sweats he had given me were so large, it wasn’t too terribly difficult to pull them down with one hand. It was hard for me to ask for help in any sense, but in the bathroom? It was an absolute no-go. I did have some dignity left, after all.
He’d left a brand-new toothbrush on the bathroom sink, which I made good use of. My mouth felt like the inside of a dumpster on a hot day.
As I brushed, I made the mistake of assessing myself in the mirror.
Shit.
Bruises bloomed across my face and neck, accompanied by the small scrapes and cuts I’d accumulated while crawling through the forest. My hair was filthy and matted, and my complexion was sallow. My face was so drawn it felt as though my skin was hanging off my skull.
Jeez. There was a time when I would have considered myself hot. I’d worn cute clothes, and I’d dated, living like a normal adult woman. Jude had seen me at my best. Before stress and living a double life had aged me significantly. Before stress had caused me to drop so much weight.
