Page 40 of Can You Take It?

Ahh shit, here we go again.

I swear, I need a fucking filter. This is the second time today I’ve slipped my tongue more than necessary.

Luckily the front door opens, and Richard walks in, saving me from Luna’s prying.

Thank fuck.

It’s been a week since he started insinuating about my involvement in Charles’s murder, though he’s never directly accused me. He can’t really do that because I’ve been stuck in his house for over a week now, and he knows it’s not the easiest place to come and go from.

“Why’s it so dark in here?”

“There’s a power cut,” Luna replies, snapping out of her endless scrutiny of me. “And, surprise, surprise, your generator’s dead.”

Richard lets out a low sigh. “I’ll get the candles.”

“Don’t bother.” Luna shoots me a pointed look. “Izel doesn’t want to light them up.”

Silence.

I know he’s staring at me. Maybe I can’t see him, but I can feel him—right down to the way his eyes seem to drill into me. I shiver, hoping he doesn’t notice.

I want to look away, ignore him, pretend he’s not in my space. But the darkness makes it worse; every little sound, every movement feels amplified. It’s like he’s right there, an inch from me, his breath brushing against my skin, even though I know he’s still by the doorway.

Finally, he shifts—toward Luna, I think. I can’t be sure. My mind’s playing tricks on me, and it’s making me want to punch something just to clear my head. God, this fucking darkness is getting to me.

The power hums back to life, filling the room with that sharp, white glow. I blink, squinting as my eyes adjust to the brightness.

He clears his throat. “Thank you, Luna. I appreciate your help.”

Luna offers a warm smile, her kindness contrasting sharply with the darkness that often surrounds me. “No problem at all, Rick.”

Her words should have no impact on me. But as I watch them exchange pleasantries, a strange feeling washes over me. Jealousy? I didn’t think I was capable of such a pesky emotion.

It’s absurd, really. Richard has never been this polite to me, and there’s no reason to believe his interactions with Luna mean anything more. Yet, the irrational thought takes root, and I find myself wondering if he likes her, if he’s kinder to her than he is to me.

After Luna walks away, leaving us alone. Richard turns to me. “How about a walk outside?”

A walk? I hadn’t expected him to be so...considerate. He’s been nice this past week, sure. And by nice, I mean he’s not trying to piss me off. We’ve had our dinners in almost completesilence, with the occasional small talk about the news or something insignificant, but that’s about it.

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened last week. I figured you did that because you wanted some fresh air,” he offers an explanation.

His words stun me. He figured that I might’ve gone outside for some fresh air? No one’s ever paid that much attention to my actions, my needs, before. I nod in agreement, too surprised to offer more than a slight nod.

But then, with his typical bluntness, he adds, “One condition, though. Please wear pants.”

“What’s the big deal? Pants are overrated, you know.”

His eyes lock with mine, and a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over me. It’s not that I have a problem with walking around without pants; I’ve spent enough time in far more compromising situations. But the way Richard is eyeing me, the way he’s making it a point, has me feeling oddly shy.

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m well aware of your opinions on pants but humor me this time.”

My usual bravado falters for a moment, and I find myself complying with his request, quickly slipping into a pair of pants. As I dress, I'm stuck wondering why I’m even entertaining this.

But it’s just a walk, right? So, I brush off the discomfort and join him. We step outside, and I instantly feel a sense of relief. The confinement of walls has always made me uneasy, and the opportunity to be out in the open, even with Richard, feels like a rare gift.

The silence between us is broken by Richard, who begins to share a bit about his childhood. It’s a side of him I’ve rarely seen, and for some reason, I find myself wanting to engage in this conversation. He’s recounting tales of his early years, his family, and the adventures he had as a child.

He looks at me with genuine interest. “Have you ever done something like that?”

---