I go to Alistair’s place that night. Ruth doesn’t stop me, figuring we needed each other. The meeting with Zeke scarred me both physically and mentally, and his words, the image of him chase me every second and puts a vulgar taste in my mouth.
A few of my clothes are still at Alistair’s place, so I don’t bother bringing an extra pair to sleep in. The joy infused with relief I feel when Alistair answers his door is immeasurable. Whenever he’s back home, the house appears fuller. Lively. Like it has a purpose.
“Did you eat?” Alistair asks first thing. I nod. He nods in response.
We don’t talk much at first. He hangs my jacket, I remove my shoes, and we head straight to his room. Aside the jitters crawling up my spine, the marks on Alistair’s face capture my attention. They’re healing but
