“Hi.”
I hopped over the sofa to sit on it.
“You’re early.” She grabbed a towel from where it was on the back of the overstuffed chair. “I wasn’t—um—expecting you until later.”
“I know.” I smirked.
“Um.” She glanced to the side, eyeing the clock. “Did something happen?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in a fight with Esther?”
“Because it was my battle.” Taji walked from the living room. “And I took care of it.”
I kept my eyes on her as she pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and wrung the cap off. She drank the entire bottle, tossed it for recycle then grabbed a second.
She came back to the living room but didn’t sit.
“Esther is a bully.” Taji explained. “I’ve known that since high school because she spent the entire time torturing me. Teachers knew. Our parents knew. No one cared.”
“Taj…”
“But I had my books to keep me distracted. I ignored her. I got tired of her shit, that’s all.”
“What was the fight about?”
“It’s not important.”
Taji turned to leave.
“Was it about me?” I asked.
She stopped.
“It was—wasn’t it.”
“Yes, but it’s not a big deal.” Taji faced me. “She says you’re hers, wants me to back off. I’m not sure why I make her feel so threatened. It’s not like—look, I handled it. You don’t have to worry I’ll go after her again.”
“What happens the next time?”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“And you’re sure about that?” I demanded.
“What’s this?” Taji asked, resting her free hand on her hips. “Only if she tries coming at me again. I won’t be her punching bag anymore.”
“Taji—”
“You’re not my father. I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t see why I’m worried?”
Taji rolled her eyes.
“Let’s have that talk now, Taji.” I told her. “I want to clear the air, so you know where I stand.”
“I know where you stand, Trucker.” She sounded tired. “There’s no reason to make this more awkward than it needs to be. Just—let it go.”
I walked over to stand in front of her. The fear in her gaze worried me. Even as I framed her cheeks and caressed them with my thumbs, I worried.