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“Nothing will happen to you,” Tucker says as though it’s an indisputable fact, but he doesn’t know that and I don’t know that either. Yet, as I let myself sink into his arms, I feel a strange sense of release. I feel soothed, relieved of a weight after talking to him.
“Thank you,” he whispers to me.
I don’t know if I was right to confide in him, but at that moment I feel good.
42. It’s her
Iris
A kid’s laugh.
A deep and masculine laugh.
These two stupid sounds pierce my ears when I wake up. Lying flat on my stomach across the sofa, my face pressed against a cushion, I yawn until my jaw drops. The first thing I see is the clock in front of me. Nine thirty-four. But who gets up that early on a Sunday morning?
I turn my head and my eyes instantly land on the word painted in red. “Killer.”
And then it all comes back to me like a big slap in the face. I pass a hand over my tired eyes. The details invade my mind. The stranger who entered my apartment and wrote that note on the wall. The cops who came. Agnes terrified. Tucker who showed up…Tucker!
Something was definitely born between us last night. Or maybe that something was there before, but has developed over the last few hours. I felt good against him, and I know he felt the same way.
It’s like a part of me is telling me that I deserve to be happy again, to leave Rafael in one corner of my heart and open the other half to Tucker.
A childish laugh comes to me again. I sit down on the couch, my short locks in all directions, and turn to the kitchen.
The scent of sugar comes to me instantly, combined with a smell of…God, do I smell something burnt?
Tucker has his back to me, mumbling something unintelligible. He stayed and slept next to me. And now he’s in my kitchen, barefoot, perfectly at ease. I should tell him to leave, but right now I don’t want to.
On the other side of the kitchen island, perched on a chair, my sister is leaning towards the kitchen counter. A little bit of tongue is sticking out of her mouth, her eyebrows are furrowed. I know this ridiculous expression perfectly well because we both have the same expression when we are focused. My confusion increases when I see her mixing a strange mixture in a bowl.
Tucker cusses, and my little sister bursts out laughing.
“If you keep saying bad words, Iris will kill you,” she warns him.
For the first time in a long time, my little sister looks happy. Like…really happy.
“Then it’s a good thing she’s sleeping like a rock,” Tucker retorts gruffly, leaning towards something I can’t see.
“She’s going to kill us when she sees this,” Agnes continues, not noticing that I’m wide awake.
Oh, what the hell have they done?
I get up, and the sofa creaks gently. My little sister suddenly turns her head towards me, a falsely innocent look on her face. Tucker leans in a little closer to her.
“The ogress is awake, right?”
I squint my eyes and retrieve a pillow from beside me. “Screw you,” I grumble, throwing the pillow at his back.
He turns to me and I can see the little mocking smile he’s holding back. He has put on his T-shirt from yesterday, the fabric crumpled in places, which does not prevent me from noticing the profile of his muscles. My gaze travels down to his jeans and bare feet. I inhale sharply as I feel my body warm up. The traitor…
And Tucker knows exactly what effect he has on me. He looks at me with an appreciative look on his face, like he’s going to devour me in the next few seconds.
He stares at me so intensely that I feel like I’m on the breakfast menu. And speaking of breakfast…what the hell is this shit?!
I notice an eggshell on the floor. But that’s not all. There’s dough all over the kitchen island. My little sister is leaning over a bowl, and I see her pulling a big piece of eggshell out of the bowl, looking extremely focused. That’s when I see batter in her hair.
“What the hell did you do?” I sigh as I walk over to them to see the extent of the damage.
