Page 29 of Lotus

“That’s ridiculous,” Clem counters, shaking her head. “You’re single because your standards are higher than The Dude.”

“Do not use my favorite movie against me during this traumatic time.”

“Nobody fucks with the Jesus!” Poppy shouts from the kitchen island, totally oblivious, rolling little balls of dough between her hands.

Clem and I both go silent as I try really,reallyhard to turn invisible, while my sister faces me, slowly, with red cheeks and the death glare of all death glares.

Shit.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“I’m sorry,” I yell-whisper, my eyes darting to Poppy, bouncing innocently on her stool. “I didn’t think she was paying attention.”

“She’s asponge. And a parrot, apparently.” Clem crosses her arms, huffing out a breath of frustration. “Great. Now I’m down to Regina as my only babysitter.”

I gather up the parchment paper and eggless cookies with a sigh, disposing of them in the trash. “A little dramatic, sis. And I’m sure there are plenty of qualified babysitters out there.”

“There’s not.”

“But—”

“There’snot,” she repeats, the tiny trace of amusement gone. “It’s you and Regina. That’s it.”

Jeez.Clementine has always been picky about who she leaves Poppy with, but I’ve never seen her quite so snippy about it. “Fine. Whatever. Sorry about theLebowskithing.”

We finish our afternoon of cookie-baking with far less entertainment, and my second batch turns out surprisingly well. Eggs sure do make a noticeable difference. After giving my sister and niece a hug goodbye, I hop in the shower to wash the flour out of my hair, then put together a basket of homemade cookies for Oliver.

When I head next door looking like the Betty Crocker I’m surelynot, Gabe answers the door in his khakis and work polo. He’s a Project’s Manager for a construction company, and this is his first week back to the office after working from home ever since Oliver returned. “Yo. You look delightfully dapper.”

“I look like a tool. Just got home. And you…” Gabe raises an eyebrow as he gives me a once-over. “You look like you’re off to Grandmother’s house with cookies you bought at Target.”

I swat his shoulder, shoving through the entryway. “I’ll have you know, I made these myself.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ask Clem.”

“So, Clem made them.”

My eyes narrow as I slip out of my sneakers, then look up into the main living area. “Where’s Oliver?”

Gabe links his fingers behind his head. “In his room. I said ‘hey’ when I got home from work—he’s drawing or something.” We both traipse up the steps of the split level, and Gabe pauses at the top of the staircase. “He’s really damn good. Have you seen his shit yet?”

“Sort of. He was drawing on the walls before I gave him my sketchpad. He said it was a comic book.”

“It’s wicked. He’s got talent.”

Nodding, I glance down the hallway, my knee bobbing with anxiety. “You think he’ll be cool with me dropping by? I know he likes his space.”

The last thing I want to do is bother him or infringe on his privacy. It felt like we’d made progress yesterday when he came by my house and helped me check the rooms, closets, and even under my bed. I can’t stop thinking about that smile, or how sweet he was with Alexis.

I’m craving more.

Gabe shrugs, scratching the back of his neck at his hairline. “He’s hard to read. Worth a shot, though.” Before I can slip away, Gabe calls out to me. “Hey… you’re okay, right?”

My free hand instinctively raises to my lip, haunting memories sweeping through me like a terrible dream. Goosebumps prickle my skin as I recall the ragged, raspy sound of the stranger’s voice. He sounded mean.Evil. I can still feel the way his hard body planted me to my mattress like I was insignificant. A toy he could play with.

Thenerve—the goddamn nerve to beat and humiliate me in my own house, between the safety of my four walls, where I will never feel entirely at ease again.

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