Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes(80)

 

“There’s more to tell, but if you're goin’ to be ugly to me, I’m not tellin’ you anythin’.”

 

His face softened. He leaned his back against my headboard and pulled me into his arms, my cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll be quiet and listen.”

 

What did Joe McAllister have to gain from me? Why did he want to know my secrets so badly?

 

“Um…” My mind scrambled to come up with what to tell him. He knew there was more, I had to tell him something. Joe rubbed my back, making me torn between enjoying his touch and being suspicious. “The Monday I went back to work, he came back. The woman I work with said he’d been in every day the week before, looking for something or someone. But the day I came back, he came to my counter, with his paperwork. He told me he knew Sloan wasn’t my brother.”

 

“How did he know that?” Joe continued to rub my back.

 

“I don't know, he just said he did.” Should I tell him that he thought Sloan was a cop? I began to think that the less I told Joe, the better. I’d tell him just enough to make him think he knew everything. “That night was the night someone broke in, and of course the police didn’t believe me.”

 

I suddenly pictured Joe standing in my door in only his boxers and scratches and welts on his head and back.

 

The intruder had on black clothes and a stocking cap. I’d hit him in the back and head with the broom. What if Joe was the intruder and stripped off his clothes and came to my door, telling me he got hurt tackling the guy?

 

“Go on,” Joe said, rubbing my back again.

 

My heart began to race. “Ummm…” I didn’t know what else to tell him.

 

“Why did you go to the visitation tonight?”

 

“You didn’t show up and I thought about the night Steve left and how guys kept standing me up, and it made think about Sloan so I thought since I didn’t have anything else to do I’d go and pay my respects.” I was rambling and talking too fast. He would figure out he was making me nervous. I forced myself to slow down. “So I did.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“What happened at the visitation?”

 

“Nothin’,” I said, trying to sound innocent.

 

His arm tensed and he paused before he resumed rubbing my back. “Rose,” he cooed into my ear. “You can trust me.”

 

The way he said it made me almost think I could trust him. Almost.

 

“Nothin’ happened. It just made me think of Momma and I got really upset.”

 

Joe tilted my head back and looked into my eyes. His were guarded and searching as he stroked my cheek. “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s all?”

 

I closed my eyes, feeling him touch my face, dismayed at the response my body had to his touch. His lips were on mine, soft and insistent, my resistance crumpling. I can’t trust him, I tried to tell it. I can’t tell him anything.

 

Muffy whined at the edge of the bed. I lifted my head up to check on her, but Joe pulled me back down, kissing me and making me forget.

 

“What was his name?” he asked, whispering in my ear.

 

I couldn't think, only feel, as he drove my body crazy.

 

Making me forget.

 

I sat up, bumping my head on his. I reached up to rub my head, while Joe looked confused.

 

Joe was always coaxing information out of me, using my body against me. My guts clenched. Joe didn't like me at all. He was just like Daniel Crocker. Only he used different tactics. And his were much worse.

 

I bolted to the bathroom, afraid I’d be sick. I locked the door behind me.

 

“Rose? What’s wrong?” Joe followed and called outside the door.

 

“I don’t feel well. I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, hanging over the toilet. The linen closet door caught my eye.

 

Joe called after the person tore apart my house, surprised I was home, expecting me to be at work. The person who came in didn't break the door to get in and might have had a key. Joe could have taken keys when he put the locks in. Why did he put the locks in?

 

Questions tumbled violently in my head, but they all pointed to the same thing. Joe was not only using me, he wanted something from me. I had to get him out of my house.

 

I opened the bathroom door.

 

“Are you okay?” he reached out to touch me and I tried not to recoil.

 

“It’s been a really rough night, I think maybe you should just go home.”

 

“I can stay with you.” He actually had the nerve to look hurt.