Page 25 of Justice for Radar

“You’ll take my room,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh, no,” I said and pitched backward on my heels, digging in.

He tugged gently on my elbow and said, “Oh, yes. My house, my rules, remember?” But his voice was kind, good-natured, as though the threat of anger was suddenly gone, spun back up in the clouds just as sudden as it’d touched down.

“Come on, now, let’s get you put back to bed.”

“But—”

“No buts, Justice. That’s not how we treat guests in my house,” he said firmly.

“Jussy,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“Call me Jussy. It’s like Jessy except with a u instead of an e. Only my parents call me Justice and I really don’t want to think about them right now.”

Radar paused and turned to me completely, searching my face as I stood there trembling in his hallway – why I didn’t know.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You triggered by something?”

I swallowed hard and realized, yes, that’s just what it was. I breathed deep and even, counting under my breath to get my anxiety under control and simply nodded unhappily.

“It’s okay,” he said softly and smoothed a hand up and down my arm. “You’re okay,” he said. “Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you here.”

I nodded a little too rapidly and he urged me forward again with his voice, saying gently, “Come on, now.”

I nodded back a little too rapidly and took a halting step forward. I was shaking pretty good, and I knew it was just reactionary, but it was still disturbing, you know?

I clutched my electronics to my chest like a shield as he led me through the portal of his doorway into the hushed dark of his bedroom.

“There you go, sit down,” he murmured, and I sat down on the edge of his bed.

He wrapped his fingers around my tablet and big laptop and tugged gently saying, “Let me…” I relinquished my white-knuckled hold reluctantly and he kneeled at my feet and put everything down in the cubby at the base of the nightstand on this side.

“There you go, it’s all right here. You settle in,” he urged and lifted my ankles and slid me under the covers atop the bed as he had before. He tucked me in and said, “You just take it easy, now.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, and he shook his head.

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re all good, baby.”

He tucked the blankets around me and kissed my forehead and I felt some of my hyper-vigilance diminish momentarily until he moved off.

“Try to get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning,” he said. “I’ll be right back with the rest of your stuff.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice shaky.

He shut the door, and I bit my lips together and tried not to cry, except I didn’t knowwhyI wanted to cry. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and waited.

I couldn’t hear anything, so there wasn’t any yelling. A few minutes later, the door opened quietly, and he rolled my carry-on into the room and up against the wall by the closet door.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and he slipped back out.

I shook beneath the blankets and closed my eyes, but sleep wasn’t coming. Finally, I got up and went to the bathroom. It was neat and orderly in here, but I had the urge to dosomething. The panic rising rather than receding and so I peeked under the bathroom sink.

Jackpot…it had a bucket of cleaning supplies. I pulled on the rubber gloves, heaved a sigh, and got to work distracting myself from all these awful feelings and quite honestly, feeling like I was doing what I was supposed to do after being woken so abruptly.

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