Page 29 of Broken King

A bigger problem presents itself as soon as I lather up my beard and start to use the razor. The hair’s too long to just shave. It needs to be trimmed first, and there’s no way in hell Matthias, Ava, or Eleanor left me a pair of scissors.

Why is nothing fucking easy?

I slam my fist into the mirror, but it doesn’t break probably because my left arm and hand are much weaker than my right. All that outburst does is hurt my knuckles. Christ, I can’t win today.

From outside the bathroom, I hear Sabrina say, “Everything okay in there? You aren’t really shaving your entire head, are you?”

Walking out to my bedroom, I see her standing in the doorway to the hall. “I’m fine, and what is your obsession with my hair? As you can see by the soap in my beard, I’m trying to shave my face. I just didn’t think about how I’d have to trim it first, so I’m shit out of luck.”

She stands there staring at me for a few moments before holding up her hand. “Wait here! I think I can help.”

And then she disappears, helping more than she could possibly know.

I don’t bother waiting since I doubt she can actually do anything for me now, but a minute later, she walks into my room, uninvited as usual, and holds up a pair of small scissors. They look like they might be to cut something on babies, although I can’t imagine what they need trimmed since they have next to no hair anywhere.

“You can say thank you right now,” she says as she walks toward where I stand.

“Maybe after I use them for my beard you can go trim the hedges with them. You might be done by Thanksgiving.”

My attempt at a joke misses entirely, and she points toward the bathroom. “Let’s go. The babies are only going to be napping for a little while longer.”

“Go where?” I ask, confused where she means or what she’s doing right now.

Like yesterday when I asked about a razor, she gives me a look like I’m the world’s biggest moron. Her eyes squinted and a disgusted expression on her face, she says, “Into the bathroom. You’re going to need help with this, I’m assuming.”

“Well, you assumed wrong. You can leave now,” I say as I push past her to walk into the bathroom, grabbing the scissors from her hold as I walk by.

Why the hell would I need her help? I’ve been shaving since I was in tenth grade, for God’s sake.

Not twenty seconds later, it becomes obvious that not using my left hand since I lost my right one hasn’t been smart. I can’t grip the tiny scissors properly, and each time I try to cut the hair short enough so I can shave, the damn things fall out of my hand and into the sink.

“Fuck!”

“Ready for my help yet?” she calls from outside the bathroom.

I’m ready for her to get the hell away from me. That I’d be on board with. Helping me shave is another story entirely.

“I don’t need your help.”

She appears in the doorway and shakes her head. “Yeah, you’re doing a hell of a job there. You might be done by Thanksgiving.”

Smartass.

Without waiting for me to invite her in, she marches into the bathroom and takes the scissors from my hand. Pointing at thetoilet, she says, “Sit. You’re too tall for me to do this with you standing up.”

“It’ll get all over the floor.”

“Then you can clean it up.”

Damn, she’s bossy, but since I want to shave and I can’t seem to handle it by myself, what choice do I have but to let her help? Reluctantly, I do as she orders and sit on the toilet seat lid.

“Good! Now sit still or I’ll stab you, and you don’t want that, I’m sure,” she says as she takes a step toward me and stops.

Just before she starts cutting my beard, I mumble, “Nothing like a threat to go with a shave.”

Sabrina gets to work with the scissors, trimming the course hair as I sit watching her. I’ve had fantasies that involved this kind of thing. They just all involved Kate and not some pushy babysitter who’s done little more than get on my last nerve since the moment I met her.

“So what made you want to shave? Not that I think you’re making a mistake or anything. I mean, beards are hot, but yours looked like birds might be nesting in it.”

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