Page 39 of Freeing Ruby

He leans closer, his firm bicep pressing against my shoulder. “I think you’ll like really Layla,” he says in a quiet voice. “You two have a lot in common.”

That certainly piques my curiosity. “Like what?”

“Let’s just say, you both have dealt with trauma. Who knows? Maybe you two could become friends.”

He’s still leaning close, and I think I must be imagining it when I feel his breath ruffle my hair. “We can never have too many friends.”

A shiver travels down my spine. The realization that I’m already so used to having him here scares me. But what scares me most is how I’ll handle his absence when he leaves. Because he’s going to leave eventually. And then I’ll be alone once more.

After we finish breakfast, I call the office to let Rick know about the broken window. As expected, he’s not happy about the news.

“Fine,” he says. “I probably have some panes of glass lying around in storage I can use to replace the broken one. I’ll be up in a little bit to fix it.”

An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. Miguel answers it, opening the door to let Rick in. He’s got tools and a pane of glass with him.

“Which window?” he asks. He sounds irritated.

“The first bedroom,” I say, pointing. “Someone threw a rock through my window last night.”

Rick glances at Miguel. “Where were you when this happened?”

“Right here in the apartment,” Miguel says. “Why? You think I did it?”

Rick grunts as he heads to my bedroom. “Wouldn’t put it past you,” he mumbles.

Miguel and I watch from the bedroom doorway as Rick replaces the broken pane and reseals it.

When he’s done, he gathers up his tools and the broken pane, then brushes past us on his way to the door.

“Thank you!” I call after him as he lets himself out.

He closes my door without a word.

“Wow, he’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” Miguel asks as he locks the door.

I choke back laughter. I can’t remember ever laughing in this apartment before Miguel arrived.

* * *

Late Sunday afternoon, as we’re both relaxing on the sofa, me with a book, Miguel on his laptop, there’s a knock on my door. Miguel gets up to see who’s there. “They’re here,” he says. He glances back at me before he starts on the deadbolts.

The door opens and in walks a stunningly beautiful girl about my age, with long silky black hair pulled up in a high ponytail and beautiful dark eyes lined with kohl. She’s dressed in distressed denim shorts, white sneakers, and a burgundy University of Chicago hoodie.

When she sees me, she removes a pair of wireless earbuds from her ears and tucks them into her hoodie’s front pocket. “Hi.” She smiles hesitantly. “You must be Ruby.”

Standing, I nod. “Yes. Hi.”

Right behind her is a man carrying a pair of dumbbells. He’s dark haired too, with a trim beard. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a form-fitting black T-shirt. “Where do you want these?” he asks Miguel.

“Over there is fine,” Miguel says, pointing to a corner of the living room, beside the TV.

The new guy sets a pair of the biggest dumbbells I’ve ever seen on the floor, then turns to me.

“This is Jason Miller,” Miguel tells me. “And his girlfriend, Layla Alexander. Guys, this is Ruby Foster, my client.”

“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Jason says. Then he looks to Miguel. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got one more trip to make.”

Miguel nods. “Thanks. Do you need help?”

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