Page 35 of Smooth Sailing

So I did the only thing I could do.

“I’m making beer-battered cod tacos with slaw. Wanna help?” I asked.

“Are they gone?”

I shook my head. “No. Muzzle is still here. But he’s leaving when Hugger comes back.”

“I think maybe I’ll stay in here. I’m not real hungry,” she replied.

Truth told, she didn’t eat much, which was beginning to get concerning. She was a wee thing. She needed to eat.

She’d also endured a massive trauma, was descending deeper by the day into a depression that was likely affecting her appetite, so she needed to be sure to eat even when she wasn’t hungry. She could tackle the depression later, but not if she starved to death.

I took a second, then entered the room, which used to be a workshop from which my boss let me do some projects at home, minor ones, but it was a nice option to have.

With the help of Nicole, Larry, Gram and some friends, we stored my stuff and got her a queen-size bed, nice bedclothes, nightstands, lamps, a dresser, and a TV.

It was all secondhand, but it looked good.

Girlie, welcoming, like she mattered.

The blinds were drawn, the curtains pulled over them, the lamps were on, and it being September, thus still light outside, but it was dark as a cave in there (outside the lamps).

“I’m not going to be pushy,” I assured. She stiffened because she knew I was winding up to be kind of pushy. “But I am going to encourage you to let the sun in and maybe get out of this room more often.”

“I don’t understand why all of a sudden four huge guys show up and wanna help me out,” she remarked.

I didn’t totally understand it either.

“Like I said, they have some history with…you know.”

I didn’t want to say his name. She winced when it was said, so I tried to avoid it.

“So they’re using me to get at him?” she asked.

“No. They’re genuinely, and I’d say extremely, from what I could read, pissed about what he did to you.”

There it was.

The wince.

Crap.

“And that’s why they want to help you out,” I finished.

“But they get something out of it.”

I pulled my shoulders forward in a shrug. “I don’t know, honey. They don’t even know why, um…he-who-will-not-be-named turned his attention to them. They’re trying to figure that out too, like I explained when we talked about this earlier.”

“This seems wonky to me.”

I smiled at her, came farther in and sat down on her bed. “I agree. But in case you didn’t notice this, I’m not Jason Statham.”

Her lips tipped up.

“We’re safe here, I truly believe that,” I told her. “But I cannot deny we’re a lot safer with those guys hanging around.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

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