Page 19 of The Souls We Claim
Maybe my sister found a level of peace and comfort here being a mother. I can only hope she did.
I return downstairs where Briar and Iris are laughing about something. Given their experiences, they seem happy enough.
“How dangerous is it? Being around the motorcycle club?”
“That feels like a question we should ease in to,” Briar says.
Iris shakes her head softly. “It’s no more dangerous than being outside the life. Only the club has better defenses. Was Lola still sleeping?” she asks in a way that is clearly meant to change the subject.
So, with that, we eat and share and talk. They tell me about the other old ladies, and I begin to relax until eventually I hear the front door slam and jump to my feet. My heart rate escalates, and I start clearing the table, grabbing foil packets and plates.
“Arianne, it’s okay,” Iris says.
“No. Patrick never liked the house to be a mess when he got home. I’m just staying here as a guest. I have nowhere to go if…”
Footsteps sound down the hallway as I grab the water glasses. The remains of Briar’s drink spill down me just as Halo arrives in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry they’re still here. They’ll be gone in a minute. And I’ll clean everything up, I promise. It’ll just?—”
“Arianne. Stop.”
I drop the glass in fear, and it shatters around my feet.
“For fuck’s sake,” Halo says as he sweeps me into his arms and places me on the kitchen island.
“I’m sorry. I’ll replace it. If you tell me where you got them from, I’ll?—”
“Girls, Spark is outside in his truck to take you both home.” His eyes never leave me the entire time he speaks. “Thank you for coming to sit with Ari.”
Chairs scratch across the floor. Kind words are said, of it being nice to meet me, but I glance at Halo’s unreadable face.
And now I’m alone with a man I barely know. I look down at the shards that glisten under the kitchen lights.
Glass crunches beneath Halo’s feet when he finally moves to the sink. He grabs a handful of paper towels and runs it under the tap before coming to stand back in front of me.
“Arianne. Look at me,” he says.
I don’t. I’ve fallen for this trick before. If you look down, men don’t feel threatened. If you look up, they think you’re defiant.
Seconds tick by. They turn into minutes. Carefully, he begins to pick shards of glass from my feet. Drops of water splat on the floor from the wet paper towels he holds.
Unable to bear the wait for whatever punishment he’s about to hand out, I raise my eyes to his.
“Good girl,” he says, touching my chin. He’s so very gentle, but I flinch out of habit. “I’m not going to talk to you while you’re looking at the ground. Now. Me telling you that you’re safe won’t do an ounce of good. But I swear on Lola’s life that I have neverhit a woman. And I don’t intend to start now. So, I’m gonna clean up your feet, and you’re going to tell me why you just freaked out. Don’t make me ask twice.”
My heart rate continues to pound, but the reason shifts. I thought he was going to be mad. But he’s tender and gentle as he dabs at the small nicks caused by the shattering glass.
“My husband didn’t like me having friends. And he didn’t like the house to be a mess when he got home from work.”
Halo moves his gaze from my feet to my face. “I sent the girls over to you. Didn’t they tell you?”
“They did.”
“Did they tell you I asked them to get food?”
I nod.
“So why would I be mad that you were sitting with the people I sent, eating the food I asked them to bring?” He opens a cupboard and pulls out a first aid kit, placing it next to me. As I think about what he says, Halo begins to apply little dots of antiseptic and Band-Aids to the three cuts that need it.
