Page 36 of Hunter or Hunted

As I walked around the bed, nearly at the door, I swiped the green bar. Quietly, I said, “Hey, kid.”

“Hey,” Lizzie answered. “How’s Gwen doing?”

I glanced at her, still out cold, as I spun the handle and walked from her bedroom. “She’ll be alright. What are you up to? How’s everything going down in town?”

“About the same as it always is on Christmas Eve,” she said. “Me and Aubrey just had dinner in the cafeteria. We’re gonna head to the rec center now. Rhiannon’s playing Polar Express this year.”

“That’s a good one.” In the kitchen now, I grabbed the broom, still perched against the counter, and started sweeping. I had the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder. “Are you alright? I feel bad. This is the first Christmas Eve we’re not together.”

“The second, actually. Maybe the third? Last time, you had an emergency surgery come in,” she said. “But it’s fine, Seabass. I’m not a little kid anymore. It’s not like you need to rush to get the presents under the tree. I know Santa’s not real.”

I chuckled, squinting for any glass that glinted on the floor. “Still. I feel bad.”

“Don’t.” She laughed. “I’m gonna sleep at Rhiannon’s tonight. I think we did that a couple times when I was little too. She’s looking forward to it, I’m looking forward to it. Gwen needed you more than I did today. Are you sure she’s okay?”

“Probably going to be pretty embarrassed tomorrow.” Almost certain I had gotten all the glass, I returned the broom to the tall cabinet and took out the bucket and mop. Filling it in the sink, I leaned against the counter. “But as okay as she can be. She really cared about Delilah.”

“Yeah.” Lizzie spoke that slowly, almost as a sigh. “The whole thing sucks. Especially right before the holiday, you know? That’s why I kind of agree with Gwen. I couldn’t see Delilah doing this.”

I flicked off the water and pinched my eyes shut. “Yeah. I don’t know.”

Another sigh echoed through the speaker. Lizzie’s tone came more cheerful when she continued. “Anyway. Just wanted to check in. But don’t feel bad, okay? I’m fine. Probably fine enough to live on my own, get my license, fly to Europe. Practically grown.”

Laughing, I lifted the bucket from the sink. “Boarding school is an option. But it might require you to work on your obstinacy with authority.”

“Good point. I guess I’ll stick it out a few more years.” I could almost hear her smile. “I really am okay though. I’m old enough now. You don’t have to worry about me every moment of every day anymore.”

She’d said that more and more lately.

Mine and Lizzie’s relationship was an odd combination of child and caregiver. She didn’t remember any parents before me, but I’d never felt like a parent to her. Not an uncle either, really. Then again, I’d never really had parents so I had nothing to compare my role. And Rhiannon was the closest thing I had to an aunt.

I thought of Lizzie almost like a little sister. One I’d fight, kill, and die for, sure. She’d always called me Seabass, never Uncle Sebastian.

As the adult, my job entailed getting her fed, to and from school, and teaching her some basic morality. But even when she was little, I’d tried to keep the leash long. Strict parents made sneaky kids and all that. I didn’t pick and prod over every little issue. The result turned her into a sort of equal in my mind. In hers too, I liked to think.

Now that she could navigate the world on her own a bit, she’d practically begged me to get out more. To find myself before I was, in her words, “old—like, forty—with no life.”

I appreciated it. She saw how much of myself I’d given for her, and she didn’t want me to miss out on any more.

Still, loosening that leash any more was easier said than done.

“I’ll always worry, kid.” Even more so after all the revelations I’d had in my argument with Gwen. “But it sounds like you’re trying to get off, so I’ll let you go. If you need me, I’m right up the road.”

“I know,” she said. “Just text me when you’re ready to go home in the morning. Oh, and maybe invite Gwen. You didn’t bring her presents, right? Maybe she can open them while we open ours.”

That was an idea. “Yeah, maybe. But sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

We get off the call and I set the bucket on the ground, blowing out a deep breath, and got to mopping.

Just when I finished up, as I dumped the dirty water into the sink, the little pitter-patter of claws on hardwood sounded. When I turned around, Honey peeked at me from the hallway. Only her face was visible, body still tucked out of view, shaking.

She was scared.

I had stabbed that dog with a needle more than a dozen times, and she had never been afraid of me. Not until now.

Chest tight, I leaned down and extended a hand. “It’s okay. Come here, Honey.”

Nub of a tail between her legs, she took a few small steps forward. Barely out of the hallway, she scooted to the floor and rolled over to show her belly. Contrary to popular belief, not a sign of obedience, but one of appeasement. She wasn’t doing what I said, but telling me, See? I’m not a threat. You don’t have to be mean.