Revealing Annie - Freya Barker Page 0,47
herself when we get home and follows Bryce upstairs when he goes for a shower. He looked briefly at Annie’s bag I carried inside but didn’t say anything. We’ll tackle that when he comes down.
“You okay?” I ask, following Annie into the kitchen.
She turns and leans her hip against the counter.
“I’m fine.”
Now, I’ve been partnered with a woman long enough to know fine is code for anything from ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ to ‘I’m about to go apeshit on you.’
Before I can figure out what end of the scale we’re at, Annie sighs deeply and starts talking.
“I really can’t stay here, Kyle.” Her eyes plead for understanding at my responding growl. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but you have Bryce, and tomorrow your parents are coming. I can’t make this everyone’s problem.”
I take two steps and pull her in my arms.
“Let’s get something clear; leaving is not an option. You may not have had a choice before, but now you aren’t dealing with this alone anymore. There are good men looking into this and you have to give them a chance. Annie, where would you run next?”
“A man is dead because of me, Kyle. What if—”
Her phone starts ringing and I let go of her.
“Shit,” I hear her mumble when she digs it out of her purse. “Erin, I was gonna call you.”
News travels fast.
I hear the water shut off upstairs and leave her to talk to her friend, while I go to have a chat with my son.
Bryce is quiet while I explain why Annie will be staying with us.
“That’s messed up,” is the first thing he says. “And that creep followed her here?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
I kept details to a minimum but it’s clearly enough to trigger Bryce’s immediate concern for Annie. Apparently looks aren’t the only thing he and I have in common.
“Is she in danger?”
It takes a minute before I answer that. I want to say no, but the truth is she may well be. I don’t want him to be afraid, but I still want him alert.
“I don’t know, which is why we need to be cautious. All of us. We keep the doors locked at all times, even when we’re home. We’re gonna be smart about going out together, which includes walking the dog. I also think I should get you a cell phone.”
His eyes light up at that. I’m guessing he’s never had one before. Almost unheard of in this day and age where most kids have their own phones by the time they’re ten.
“For real?”
“Not to play games on,” I warn him, and from the sheepish grin on his face I can tell that’s exactly where his thoughts had gone. “But for emergencies and for safety. In fact, I think I may still have my old iPhone in a drawer somewhere. I’ll see if we can get a new number for it.”
“Cool.”
I’m starting to recognize the intricate differences in the delivery of Bryce’s standard response. I’m grinning when I follow him down the stairs.
Much later, after a dinner Bryce helped me cook, and dessert Annie whipped up, my mind drifts from the movie on TV. I barely recognize my predictable life anymore—each day seems to bring another crisis—and yet I’ve never felt more in balance. My son is in the basement gaming, Annie is tucked under my arm on the couch, the dog is snoring in her bed, and tomorrow my parents will be here to complete the picture.
Everyone I care about under my roof.
Annie
“I’m nervous.”
I meet Bryce’s eyes. He’s already taller than I am so I’m forced to look up.
“Me too,” I admit, slipping my arm around his waist.
We’re side by side in the doorway, watching Sumo walk up to the car holding his parents that just pulled up in the driveway. His mother is surprisingly tall as she steps from the car, only to be wrapped in her son’s arms, her gray hair just visible over his shoulder.
The man getting out of the driver’s side briefly glances at his family before his eyes seem to seek Bryce out. Then they slide to me, and immediately his expression hardens.
I can’t hear exactly what, but Sumo is saying something to him over the roof of the car. The two men end up hugging the way men are wont to do, with a healthy dose of awkwardness and bone-breaking backslaps, before the group turns this way.
“Look at you!” his mother says, even before her feet reach the