Page 11 of Breaking Bristol

“I’m sure she will,” I murmured.

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too.”

We hung up, and I slid my phone back into my pocket. “Believe me now?”

“Yeah. But I still don’t like that you know where I live.”

I sighed and moved toward her, and she put her hand on the doorknob. I hated that she feared me, but I supposed any logical woman who lived alone in the woods would be cautious about letting a man know that. “Told you I’d never hurt you,” I gritted as I set the plate on the porch. “Me knowing where you’re staying doesn’t make a difference.”

“You really didn’t know I lived here?”

I shook my head. “No. I didn’t even know they rented the place out, to be honest. Couldn’t believe it, actually.”

“Why not?”

There were several reasons, but I wasn’t going to tell her the biggest one. “Well, it’s small. And way outdated. Does everything inside even work still?”

The look on her face told me it didn’t.

“Show me.”

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“Show me what doesn’t work, and I’ll fix it. I don’t know why Uncle Lou isn’t asking you.” I lifted a hand in her general direction. “Or why you wouldn’t tell him.”

She studied me intently, then pushed the door open. “Just so you know, I can make a weapon out of anything.”

“Are you sure you’re not a fugitive?” I quipped.

“Maybe I am, so watch yourself, Dr. B.”

I withheld a laugh and stepped inside, taken aback at how different it looked. She’d brightened the place up with pink curtains and the walls were somehow a white brick instead of the flat, dull wood paneling. The door to the one bedroom was closed, but the bathroom door was cracked, and I could see a soft pink robe hanging on a hook.

“It’s not permanent,” she said, touching the wall. “They’re just sticky tiles and they come off and don’t leave a mess. Same with the backsplash and bathroom floor tiles.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Bristol shrugged. “You looked surprised.”

I put the plate of leftovers in her fridge, noting that the entire bottom row was filled with wine. “I was, but not in a bad way. It looks great.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“So what’s not working?” I repeated.

She bit her lip and went to the sink, flicked the lever up, and water shot out and hit me in the face. “Shit.” I jumped away. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did no such thing.” She shut the tap off with an evil grin.

“Hm-mmm.” I took the towel she offered me and wiped my face. “Anything else?”

“Well… the closet door is off the hinges and the little window on the bathroom is stuck opened.”

I was trying to stay calm, but it pissed me off that she was living like that. “Anything else?”

“No.”

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