“You could have left it in the mailbox, you know.”
There is something in his tone that I can’t deal with any longer. I chuck the cookies at the door. “You know, I feel like you used to be nicer.”
He blinks once, ignoring my comment. “What’s going on that you can’t text?”
Shaking my head, I quickly fill him in on my morning, pulling my phone out and showing him the photos—although, I have no clue how he’s able to even see a thing through that tiny slit.
When I’m done with my spiel, I’m met with silence. Uncomfortable silence, at that. I can’t even tell if he’s still breathing or not.
“So,” I begin, “should I make some calls, or is there a system in place for handling a complaint like this?”
I wait for what feels like several long, drawn-out minutes before he clears his throat. When he does speak, he’s a bit softer. Not much, but enough.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’d say defer to my brother.”
“I tried that already.”
“Have you tried Georgie?” he asks.
I nod. “She’s busy. At least I think she is since she didn’t pick up. Probably at her bookstore.”
“You didn’t think to go by and talk to her, then?”
This feels like the passing of the buck. I’m familiar with this system and I am not a fan. Especially when I’m dealing with a very privileged man who seems to have reality twisted.
“Why would I go by and bother her at her job when you’re here, in your house, doing nothing?”
Austin opens the door only to glare at me as he pulls it back, wide, to gather momentum as he swings it shut.
But, in what will go down in the history books as the worst idea ever in the history of worst ideas, something inside me decides that now is the exact time I should take a stand.
As he goes to shut the door, with what I’m sure he thinks is going to be a resounding bang, I make a choice. A choice to stick my foot in the path of said door.
What a dumb idea.
As the heavy wood connects with the tiny bones in my foot, it’s like a thousand fireflies have all decided to fan out across my line of vision at once, trying to dispel the feeling of pain and irritation that is coursing its way across my body, both electrifying and chilling me from the inside out at one time.
As I fall to the porch, silently screaming because there are no words, I can see the fear on Austin’s face as he swings the door back open and drops to the floor with me.
“Oh my God,” he says as he hits the ground, grabbing at me but not touching me at all. “I am so sorry…”
I hold up a finger, silencing him. “Do. Not. Talk.”
“But,” he sputters, his face filled with worry and concern, “why did you stick your foot back in the door?”
“Because I’m not done.” I might throw up from the pain, but I’ve got something to say. I reach into my pocket and pull out a list and shove it in his direction. “I spent the morning stopping by the buildings Levi asked me to, and these are all the people I met and what they need. Seems that they haven’t seen you around to talk to you about it in a long time. They need things.”
His eyes pull from mine as he accepts the piece of paper, inspecting it. He casts his eyes across it, but drags his gaze back to meet mine.
“Are you okay, Bex?”
“I’m fine,” I hissed, ignoring the dull pain and pointing to the list. “So, will you deal with this?”
“If I take care of these things, will you stop your dog from doing his business on my property?”
I do a double take with so much intensity, my neck almost breaks. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he says with a shrug.
