Page 106 of The Souls We Claim
“I left my wallet on the table by the door. It’s okay, I’ll come home and get it. I mean, I drove here without having my license with me, so I’m sure it?—.”
“I got it, babe. Are you waiting to check out?”
The tightness in my chest releases. When Rae stayed over, we ended up talking into the night. She told me that PTSD after abuse is real. And that the muscle memory of fear is strong. “Barely even started. Half the lot is closed off, and parking was a nightmare.”
“So, shop. I’ll shower. And I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. I’ll find you inside.”
It’s hard to think of what to say as an overwhelming feeling of being cared for swamps me.
“Ari? You there?”
I shake my head and smile. “Yes. I’m here. Thank you. Was just processing that I asked for help, and you said you’dcome without there being any punishment for asking. Guess I’m growing.”
“Kitten,” he says. His voice is ripe with emotion. “Of course I’ll help you. All you ever have to do is ask. I’ll be there within thirty minutes.”
It’s a big shop. I like to meal plan. And there are items we need to stock up on for the laundry room. Plus, I promised I’d pick up some beer for Jax.
Knowing Jax is thirty minutes away, I take my time.
“You are in such a good mood,” I say to Lola. “You must have had the best sleep last night. Except for when you kept me and Daddy awake with what I’m guessing was a tummy ache.”
The worddaddyfalls off my tongue easily, and it makes me grin.
“Da da?” she says, looking around.
“He’s not here, sweetheart. But soon.”
I manage to distract her enough to place some bananas into the shopping cart as deftly as I can. If she sees them, she’ll want to eat them, and I have no means of paying for one yet. I grab some grapes and apples and all the vegetables I need. For dinner tonight, I’m making chicken and a Greek salad. Jax wrinkled his nose at the idea of feta cheese, but I told him to trust me, that he’d enjoy it.
I cruise the meat aisle, grabbing what I need. Thanks to careful consideration of prices and sales, I manage to pick up some ribs that Halo could barbecue for us one night this week. If he’s away, I can always toss them into the freezer.
When I get to the cereal aisle, I see the oatmeal he uses on the upper shelf. Lifting on to my toes and stretching doesn’t help. I look up and down the aisle to see if there is a store employee anywhere close by.
The aisle is busy with shoppers, but I don’t see the flash of a uniform anywhere. There is a man nearby reading the backpanel of a cereal box. Checking my watch, I see it’s only a few minutes until Jax arrives. I could just wait. But I’m already grateful enough that he’s driving my wallet over.
What kind of killer reads nutrition labels?
A cereal killer.
The thought comes to me, and I can’t help but laugh at my ridiculous pun.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Would you mind getting the oatmeal down off the top shelf for me, please? I can’t reach it.” I act out trying to reach, which is so embarrassing. He can probably see I’m not tall enough.
“Sure thing,” he says, dropping the box he was looking at back onto the shelf. “I don’t know why they build these shelves so high in the first place. Which one?”
“The one in the green packaging.”
He grabs me one and hands it to me. “You know, the blue one has fewer additives.”
“It does? This is the one my boyfriend”—I love that term—“uses.”
He taps the top of the packaging. “Yeah. And I also read somewhere it can have traces of glyphosate in it, like a residue from weed killer.”
“Ew. Would you mind swapping it for the blue one, please? Oatmeal is oatmeal, right? I don’t think he’ll mind swapping.”
The man takes the green package from me and grabs a blue package. His fingers brush against mine in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
“Get the fuck away from her.” Jax’s voice booms up the aisle.
