Page 157 of By A Thread

“After I moved back, I hired a contractor. A contractor who came in twenty percent below the other bids. I thought I was being smart with my money, but…” She waved her hand around the room. “It was the worst thing I could have done. He took the check and ran. Twenty thousand dollars. “

I swore ripely. Besides touching Ally again, my second priority was to find this contractor and punch him in his face until he had no teeth left.

“Yeah, pretty much my sentiments,” she agreed. “With my savings gone, I cashed in my retirement savings to cover the nursing home. That’s all gone now too.”

“I want the contractor’s name and contact information. Your mother’s too,” I said.

“Good luck with that. The business number is disconnected, and the Facebook page is nothing but posts from people demanding their money back. My mother is out of the country building schools or planting crops. Anyway, the rest of my savings went to the nursing home. Again, astronomically expensive, but my father deserves the best care I can get him, and I’m not letting him go back to the other place.”

I’d heard enough. I was going to hunt that fucking contractor and her thieving, holier-than-thou mother down and wring them dry until every cent they owed Ally was paid back.

“Get your things. You’re not staying here anymore.”

“Dom. You’re overreacting.”

“It’s fucking freezing in here! There’s a fucking hole in your fucking ceiling. If you take one step to the left, you’re going to end up with dirty fucking nails in your foot.” I was yelling now, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to stop.

“Look, I know it’s not the Four Seasons,” she snapped.

“The Four Seasons? This isn’t even a burned-out hull of a roach motel frequented by toothless prostitutes and meth-addicted johns. You’re not staying here.”

She drilled a finger into my chest. “Breaking news, Dom. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

I felt physically ill. Thinking about all those nights I’d been fantasizing about her in my big, warm bed. In my comfortable home with food in the fridge and heat and money. And she’d beenhere. I thought about the balance of the trust fund I’d touched once. The one that could have saved her from all of this.

“Ally, don’t fight me on this. You’re not spending another night under this Swiss cheese roof.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“If a codes inspector showed up right now, he’d rule this place uninhabitable. You’re not staying. Pack your shit. Now.”

“Just because we had sex doesn’t give you any right to tell me what to do.”

I dragged her a step away from the tack strip she was standing too close to. I was so angry the edges of my vision were going red. “Listen to me, Ally. I don’t care if this is inappropriate or high-handed or controlling. You aren’t staying here. I’m not fucking around. And you’re not winning this one.”

“I know you’ve never had to deal with not having money, but staying someplace better involves rent money. A lot of it. And the more money I pay out to expenses like that, the less I have for my dad.”

I closed my eyes. Clenching my jaw, I tried to count backward from twenty. I was so fucking pissed at her, at myself, at the assholes who screwed her over, that I didn’t trust myself to speak.

“Dom—”

“Youmatterto me, Ally. Do you get that? Icareabout you. And yet you insist on not taking what I can offer you. I need you safe. I need you warm and happy and fed and rested. Goddammit, Ally. You are killing me with this stupid pride.”

She was staring up at me wide-eyed and dazed.

“You can’t make me leave you here. You have to understand that, Ally.”

“Why are you so mad?” she whispered.

“Why? Because I live in a three-bedroom townhouse with all the heat and food and fucking solid floors I could ever want. And this whole time you’ve beenhere. Your front door doesn’t even lock.”

“Don’t push your privileged guilt off on me. I never asked for—”

“Anything. You never asked for any fucking thing. I can make all of your problems go away. I can fix all of this, and you won’t let me!” I needed to take a step back. I needed some space for this helpless rage that was clawing its way up my throat. But I didn’t want to not be touching her.

“Why would I let you help me?” She looked genuinely confused, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d done nothing but send mixed signals. “This is my problem, Dom. My responsibility.”

I dropped my forehead to hers. “Let me fix this, Ally.”