Page 86 of Heart Thief

I breathe in and out deeply. It’s Ryker, the dream slayer. Fantastic.

I let him bang on my door for another five minutes, to see if he’ll give up.

He doesn’t.

“If you don’t answer, I will break down the door. I’m not joking. Remember? I don’t joke. So, let me in right now.”

I shuffle to the door and throw it open. “Or what? You’ll huff and you’ll puff?”

“Does that make me the big bad wolf?”

“If the shoe fits.”

I navigate the minefield of my palace, return to my comfy couch, and pull my blanket up to my chin. Artie resumes his position cuddled up at my side. We’re a pity party team.

Ryker slowly enters the apartment, stepping over the bags of garbage that are stacked up in the foyer. I have the feeling he wouldn’t call my home a palace. He looks in my kitchen, distaste marring his features. I didn’t expect him to love my new decorating style. It’s where you let all of your takeout and pizza boxes clutter the countertop. It’s a great look.

I gave up on the healthy freezer meals my mom left me. Instead, I’ve been indulging in all sorts of fast food. Anything that’s batter-coated and fried in oil is my new best friend.

Ryker deliberately stands in front of the TV, his eyes perusing the stack of garbage on the coffee table, his lips turned into a frown. When his gaze lands on me, there’s little change to his disgusted expression.

Artie climbs closer to me, shaking in my arms, his whine piercing the air.

“He never did like me,” Ryker says.

“Can’t think why.” I wipe a few tears from my cheeks. They fall unbidden. All the time. It’s the norm, rather than the exception.

I sit up. “You’re blocking my view. I haven’t seen this episode.”

“Where’s Mila and what have you done with her?”

“Ryker, was that a joke? If so, it wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m recovering. You slammed a door on my hand after you ripped my heart out of my chest. Remember? Think hard. I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

He walks forward and tries to grab the remote out of my hand. We struggle for a bit, but he wins. He flicks the TV off.

“I was watching that.”

“How long have you been watching that?”

I do a quick mental calculation. “Oh, about five days and four hours.”

“Maybe it’s time to give it a rest.” He approaches a window and yanks open the drapes.

My eyes squint from the sudden bright light. “Now I’ll turn into a gremlin.”

“My dear, you already have.”

He removes his suit coat and starts to roll up his sleeves.

“I think you should leave. I don’t even know why you’re here,” I tell him. Perhaps guilt, the great motivator.

“I don’t know why I am, either. Don’t question it and everything will be fine.”

He opens a window, letting a fresh breeze into the apartment. He grabs the garbage can and starts picking up all the trash piled on the coffee table. The only survivor is the napkin with the address on it for tomorrow. He hangs that on my fridge with a magnet.

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