Page 6 of Tower
I wait until she’s left the room. I secure all the bars.
Then I lie down on the far edge of the bed near the wall, curling up in a fetal position.
It’s only then I let myself cry.
It’s almost dark when I’m walking back to Levi’s room with Jen that evening.
She showed me the two tented areas out back, divided between men and women, where we can go to the bathroom and wash up with soap and rainwater before bed.
The bedroom is still empty after I say good night to Jen. No one anywhere stays out in the dark anymore, so surely Levi will be coming to bed in not too long. I don’t bar the door like I did earlier. Instead, I change into a little gray knit nightgown with wide straps and a simple ruffle around the bottom. It isn’t any sort of sexy lingerie, but it’s pretty and makes the most of my legs and boobs. I haven’t worn it since I broke up with my last boyfriend when I was twenty-one. I don’t really want to wear it now.
But I need to make sure Levi doesn’t regret taking me on.
I’m in a side chair—there’s a sitting area in this room with a couch and two armchairs—pulling tangles out of my hair with my brush when the door swings open and Levi strides into the room.
He’s scowling. Not scowling at the world like normal. Scowling at me.
“Why didn’t you bar the door?” he demands.
I stand up, still gripping my hairbrush. “I thought you’d be coming soon, so I didn’t want to lock you out.”
“I don’t give a shit about bein’ locked out. Anytime you’re in this room, you bar the door.”
I gulp and nod. “Okay. Sorry. I will.”
“I’m serious. We can protect you from outsiders, but you can’t trust every guy here. My reputation isn’t enough to stop everyone. Some guys are led by inflated egos. Some guys are led by their dicks. And even knowing I’ll kill ’em if they touch you might not stop ’em. You got that?”
I hug my arms to my chest. “I’ve got it. I understand. I’ll be careful.”
He nods—that silent inclination of his head that’s his most characteristic gesture.
His hair and beard are damp around the edges, and his face looks cleaner than it was at dinner. He must have washed up before bed like I did.
He’s still wearing the same clothes he had on this morning. His eyes are moving up and down my body.
I wait.
Finally he mutters, “We don’t gotta fuck tonight.”
My eyes widen. “What? Why not?”
“Your daddy died last night. I can wait. I don’t much care one way or the other.”
Well, then. Isn’t that flattering?
I should be relieved, but I’m almost offended for no good reason. “No.”
His dark eyebrows go sky-high. “No?”
One thing is for sure. He doesn’t like me saying no to him. “I just mean I’d rather fuck tonight, unless you really don’t want to.”
“Why?” He asks the blunt question as if he has every right to demand entry into the secrets of my soul.
I shrug and tell him the truth. “I’ve been functioning in crisis mode since last night. Just doing one thing that needs doing after another. Without processing it all yet. So I’d like to… get everything done that needs doing while I’m on a roll. It will make it easier. To have it already done. Once I start to process… everything.”
He thinks about this for longer than I would have expected.
Then he finally asks, “You expectin’ it to be bad?”
