Page 26 of The Fix

“I will knock until you come out.”

Just to drive the point home, I tap my knuckles against the wood again.

“I’m working.”

“But it’s nighttime,” I retort. I have no clue what time it actually is. Hours and days just flow different when you’re on rock star time. “Work’s over now.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Anna growls from inside the room.

It’s silent for a moment. No rustling, no shifting lights beneath the door.

So, I knock again.

“Go away.”

A slam against the panel separating the two of us has me jumping back a foot and a grin breaking out across my face.

Time for a different tactic.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, placing a hand against the smooth surface. “I’m hungry.”

“If you ask me to make you food, you’re getting locked out in the snow.”

“Too late.” I snicker. “You already tried that once.”

Grumbling is all I get back.

“Knock, knock.”

“Saying the words doesn’t change the fact that I have plenty of crap to do in here, Jeffers.”

Snorting, I replace my words with the action, except this time I don’t stop pounding my palm against the surface. I do it so long I find a beat to it, keeping time in an eighth of a beat.

Mac would be so proud.

Lifting my arm, I’m halfway to adding a second hand to the mix when the door flies open and a flustered Anna snaps, “What?”

Smirking, I snag her wrist before she can slam the door in my face and pull. She fights my hold, but doesn’t break free from me as I practically drag her into the living room, not stopping until we reach the fireplace.

Heat radiates from the stone, the flames on the smaller side, while the coals underneath burn red hot.

“Dinnertime,” I mutter and drop down to the blanket-covered floor with crossed legs, careful not to disturb the trays already laid out.

“Um,” Anna chokes out, her wrist twisting in my grip, “no, thank you.”

“Not too good for weenie-roast, are you?”

I look up at the woman with a grin when she makes some kinda noise that’s stuck between a scoff and a snort. “Uh.”

Clicking my tongue against my teeth, I tug on her wrist and nod at the literal sticks leaning against the hearth. Sharpened and waiting. Just as I have done for the last twenty years of my life. “You know how this works, right?”

I’m teasing her. Pushing her. Waiting to see if she’ll take the chance to live a little.

It’s probably a dick move, but I’m nothing if not persistent. Possibly even an asshole.

I accept this lot in life.

She just stares expectantly at the fire with an arched brow and a robotic shake to her head.

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