He glances to the side, and I have to smile at it. I’m so taming this vicious beast. Too bad the beast on the other side of the door isn’t tameable. He’s probably the one who crapped up this place with all those bottles.
A tapping at the door has me cutting off in mid-stream.
“What?!” I yell, louder than I mean to. How embarrassing! He’s listening to me go to the bathroom!
“Uh, sorry to bother you. I just … you know … wanted to apologize.”
I stare at the ceiling contemplating my horrible life. I’m having a conversation with a horribly scruffy and yet somehow still cute guy with my pants around my ankles on the toilet, while a small dog who pretends he hates me smells the entire bathroom up and makes it stink like old fish. Jeremy’s going to think it’s me doing it.
“Apologize for what?” I say.
“For saying that thing about you breaking up with someone. That wasn’t nice.”
Jaws tilts his head at me and I know exactly how he feels. Is this some kind of trap, or what?
“You’re forgiven. I think.”
“I’m still not leaving, though.”
I roll my eyes. Not a trap. Just an idiot.
“Could you please go away. I’m trying to take care of business in here.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Good. Finally.”
Jaws lies back down while I finish up and take a few minutes to brush and floss my teeth and then put all my layers back on. Not that I care what this butthead thinks about my breath. He’ll never get close enough to me to smell this minty freshness, the jerk. Trying to kick me out of the cabin where I’m going to do great things? Figure out my shit and get on with my life? Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen. I’m not going anywhere. He is.
Chapter Thirteen
WHEN I EMERGE FROM THE bathroom, I find Jeremy sitting on the couch, staring out into space. Jaws is at my heels when I stop and fold my arms over my chest just in front of our intruder.
“Okay, listen … I know it’s cold out and there’s a lot of snow, but if you got in, you can get out. So you can sleep here tonight, but in the morning, you have to leave.” I’m proud of how confident I sound.
His smile is kind of sad and doesn’t make it to his eyes. “You really think you’re staying here, huh?”
“Yes, I really do.” My arms fall to my sides as I start to lose my cool, confident feeling. Desperation is sneaking into my brain, bringing fear with it. Where will I go if not here? What will I do? I have no one left to beg from. “I was given this place fair and square. Majority rules. Two siblings against one. I stay, you go.”
He’s still not looking at me. “I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that an owner’s rights trump a squatter’s rights.”
“I’m not a squatter!” My arms fly out to the sides. “Look around you, Bud! I’m the only one not living in here like a squatter!”
He finally looks up at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you live like a skid row bum. I cleaned more than fifty beer bottles out of here today. Maybe a hundred. What are you, some kind of alcoholic?”
His gaze drops back down to the table and he stares and stares at it. His answer only comes just as I’m about to yell at him again. “No, I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Yeah, right. Because non-alcoholics drink beer until every single surface in their house is covered in bottles and forget to wash their clothes and hair for weeks on end.” A very unladylike snort escapes me.
His face morphs into a frown and his eyes lose that faraway look. He lifts his gaze to meet mine. Then he smiles. “You just admitted this is my house.”
I play back my last words in my head and end up wanting to strangle myself. “It’s just a loose term. The point was … the point is, that you’re a drunk, and I’m not going to share this space with someone like that. I cannot create in the midst of chaos.” I cross my arms over my chest again, at this point just trying to stay warm. Standing up here in the middle of this refrigerator of a room is stealing all my body heat.
He sighs long and loud. “All right, I hear what you’re saying. I’m not going to give you any trouble.” He looks up at me, his expression sad. “I’ll leave as soon as I can, I promise. I just need to wait until the snow melts a little or the plows come through. Fair?”