Page 75 of Kneeling for Them

Ella

One hour.I have one hour before I need to leave my apartment to go to Bartleby’s.

I fling myself onto my couch, not even bothering to remove my maid uniform.It’s more comfortable than the tight jeans I’ll be wearing to the pub, anyway.

I check my phone.No new message from Kingston.I want to know what happened with Sebastian.

I’m sure he’ll let me know as soon as he can.

In the meantime, I should rest before I go to Bartleby’s.My heart gives an extra pump of fear at the thought.All day, I’ve been dreading a return to that part of Bellefleur.I don’t want to walk past the entrance to that dark alley.I hate that I’m a little afraid to go there.The Bellefleur is just as safe around my apartment as it is on Bartleby’s block.What happened last night could’ve easily happened right outside my building.

But it didn’t.

I’m okay, though.That asshole didn’t hurt me, he just scared me.And I kicked him in the nuts so hard, he’s probably still hurting.At least, I hope he is.

And will I be on my guard from now on when I leave work?You betcha.No texting while I walk, no daydreaming about my boyfriends.My entire focus will be on my own safety.

My phone vibrates with a text and I rush to look at it.But it isn’t Kingston, it’s Tommy.

I want to talk to you, Ella.I’m sorry.

I can’t deal with my brother right now.But I miss him.Dammit, this is the worst.

I’m not ready to talk, I type back.I understand you’re sorry, but I’m just not ready.Please give me some time.

He doesn’t respond, but someone rings the buzzer.No.He didn’t.I push the button for the intercom.Tommy’s voice comes through, scratchy and weak.

“Ella, come on, I really want to talk to you.”

“I’m on my way out,” I say.

No way am I letting him up here—he’ll never leave.I throw on some clothes for the pub.After tugging on my coat because the day is chilly, I grab my bag and head downstairs.

Tommy’s waiting outside.Thank goodness for the landlord fixing the door and getting the buzzer working properly, otherwise Tommy would’ve been waiting in the hall right outside my apartment, and I’d never get him out of my hair.

“Tommy, I literally just said I’m not ready to talk.”

He looks better than the last time I saw him—he’s wearing clean clothes, at least, and his hair looks washed.He doesn’t have that same furtive, scared look about him, like a dog waiting to be kicked.

“I know,” he says, his blue eyes wide and guileless, “but I feel really bad and I want to make up, put it all behind us.”

I glare at him.“I’m the one who was wronged—shouldn’t I get to decide when it’s time to ‘put it all behind us’?”

“But it’s been almost a week,” he says.“Come on, Ella—”

“No, Tommy.”My eyes prick with tears.“I’m still so angry at you, I want to cry.”

He could easily be playing another angle.And I hate—I absolutely loathe—that I could believe that of my own brother.But after everything else he’s done, my suspicion isn’t much of a stretch.

“I have to get to work,” I say, telling a lie of my own.I have another half hour at least before I need to leave for Bartleby’s.But the fact I have work, at least, Tommy will respect.

Probably because me earning money is the only chance he has of ever getting it.

Wow, the snark is strong in my brain today.

“You could quit your job, couldn’t you?”he says.“Because you’re with that rich guy.He’d take care of you—he could afford it.I looked him up.”

“That is none of your business,” I say.“Just because he’s my boyfriend, doesn’t mean I’m going to take his money.You need to learn proper boundaries, Tommy.”