Smiling big, I place my hands on the lever handle and push down.
Clunk
Shit! No! NO!
The effing gate is locked! My throat clogs and I choke out a sob, while pressing down the lever hard and fast repeatedly as if that’ll somehow make it unlock. Tears fall down my face and I nod in resolve. Only one thing to do now.
Climb the wall.
Lifting my foot high to the lever handle of the gate, I let out a yelp when something grips my ponytail tight as well as the waist of my pants and drags me backwards. Reaching up, I hold onto the strong hand that still holds my ponytail firmly. I’m being dragged along like a freakin’ dog. My mouth opens and filth spews out, “Let go of me, you fucker! I knew you were full of shit! Protecting me, my ass!”
Suddenly, I’m thrown by my hair onto the porch. My scalp throbs. I look up and I almost wish I hadn’t. A fuming Nox stands in front of me. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “Get in the fuckin’ house, Lily.”
Standing on unsteady legs, I stand as tall as I can and whisper shakily, “No.”
“Get in the house.” His cheek tics.
A little stronger, I repeat myself, “No.” My voice strained.
The veins in his neck bulge when he roars, “Get in the fucking house!”
My entire body jerks in shock and I shut my eyes tightly. Bringing my balled fists up to my temples, I screech, “No! You can’t make me!”
My nose tingles and I hate myself for wanting to feel the sweet release of the tears that are stuck behind my closed eyes.
A soft hand gently squeezes my shoulder. I hear Boo tell Nox, “Go on. I’ll take her inside.”
Boo’s hands gently pry my fists away from my head. She coos, “Come on, Deedee. Let’s go up to your room and have a little talk.”
I’m devastated. I just want to go home. I choke on a sob, “I want to talk to my dad.”
Boo nods, “Okay. Let me talk to Nox. I’ll do my best, but,” she looks around cautiously, “you’ve seen him. If he says no, it means no.”
Putting her arm around my waist, she guides me up the stairs and into my room. I’m too exhausted to argue and let her lead me gently but firmly. Once we reach my room, I throw myself on the bed dramatically and she chuckles, “So, you went all MacGyver, huh?”
My top lip twitches and I have the insane urge to burst into laughter. I explain, “No way. If I were MacGyver, I totally would’ve gotten away. MacGyver is badass.”
Boo walks around the bed and lays on it next to me. “You know, I had the biggest crush on MacGyver when I was younger. I don’t know whether it was his wittiness or that silky blonde mullet, but,” she sighs, “I really had it bad for him.”
My twitch turns into a smile, “Although the silky mullet is mighty tempting, I think it was his scrappiness I liked most.”
Boo blinks. “Scrappiness? What the hell is scrappiness?”
I roll my eyes at her. “Oh, c’mon! He could use anything normal and make it extraordinary. He was scrappy!”
Her brows rise and she nods. “Scrappy. I like it.”
We fall into an awkward silence. I stare at her while she stares at me. Not able to stand the silence any longer, I blurt out, “I’m not sorry I ran. I’ll do it again and again ‘til I speak to my father. It’s a simple request, and if you’re really protecting me, then it shouldn’t be an issue.”
Boo looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, Deedee. It’s not my choice. And I know it means nothing to you, but I promise you that there’s no one better to protect you than Nox. I’ve worked with my fair share of people and he has the best success rate, regardless of the mission.”
I stare her down. “What would you do if you were me?”
Her eyes sparkle as she smiles slyly. “I’d run.”
Wow. I’m completely stunned by her honesty. She opens her mouth to speak when she looks past me and quickly sits up. She moves to stand by the bed and I look up at her. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
She doesn’t say a thing but she looks sorry. Without a word, she leaves me lying on the bed with Nox at the door. He doesn’t say a word and neither do I. I refuse to turn around and look at him. The silence becomes thicker and thicker until I hear a loud thump followed by creaking. My curiosity gets the better of me and I turn.
I don’t believe it!
He’s brought up a rocking chair and maneuvers it in a way that completely blocks the doorway. He sits down, rocking himself gently and remains silent. His cool eyes dare me to protest.
Oh, you mothertrucker!
The message is clear.
I’ve lost what little freedom I had after my little stunt. My eyes narrow and I spit, “I hate your guts.”