On His Knees by Tabatha Kiss

Chapter 12

Jenna

Ireturn to Shanty Row and slow my sprint as I approach the house. On the safety of my lawn, I come to a stop and dip forward with my hands on my knees while I catch my breath.

I love a good run. There’s nothing better than outrunning my pulse, my thoughts, and losing myself in that slow-burning adrenaline. I stand up, my runner’s high in full swing.

Fuck yeah.

I look at the house and then... I remember.

Seth. Newbury.

I groan and march up the porch stairs.

Okay, he’s here.

That’s fine.

I can handle that. It doesn’t have to be World War III.

I reach down and touch my toes twice. I perform a quick quad stretch on both legs.

It’s all going to be fine.

As long as he follows the rules, it’s all going to be fine.

I step forward, grabbing and twisting the knob on the front door and — slamming right into it?

I recoil backward, nearly slapping my cheek on the door. It doesn’t budge. I push on it again. Doesn’t budge. I’m locked out.

And I didn’t bring my keys.

I knock on the door. “Seth.”

I pound once. Twice.

“Seth! Open up! I forgot my keys!”

No response.

I shake the knob, growing annoyed.

“Seth!”

I slap the door.

“Seth!”

Still nothing. His truck is still in the driveway, so I know he’s in there. And these walls are paper thin, so I know he can hear me.

I squint as rage floods my cheeks.

He locked me out.

That bastard locked me out.

With a growl, I abandon the door to check the windows, hoping at least one of them is loose enough to open. Unfortunately, no luck on the front porch.

I stomp down the stairs and beeline around the house, glancing over my shoulders to check for peeping neighbors. But this is far from the most dramatic domestic disturbance that’s ever occurred on Shanty Row.

I pass by the outside access door to the basement and roll my fist as I approach the back door to the kitchen.

“Seth!”

I bang on the door.

No response.

“Seth! Seth! Argh!”

I spin around and make my way to my bedroom window. Sometimes, I like to keep it open a crack, so if I’m lucky...

It’s closed.

Dammit.

I stand on the tips of my toes as I press against the frame, desperately hoping for it to move upward enough so I can slide my fingernail beneath it. The window wobbles, so it’s not completely fixed in place. Now, if I could just… get it...

Got it!

One quick push and the window opens wide. Using every bit of my upper body strength, I hoist myself up with my feet planted on the side of the house as leverage.

I’m gonna kill him.

I struggle up and over the windowsill.

He’s dead.

I slide inside and plop onto my bedroom floor.

“Seth.”

I march into the duct tape-split hallway.

“Seth!”I shout into Heidi’s open room.

I cross the line to stick my head inside, but the room is empty. The bathroom, too.

“Seth!”

I stop in the kitchen doorway. Seth sits at the table with earbuds in his ears, his attention focused on the tablet in his hand.

“Hey!” I shriek.

Seth calmly raises his head and plucks the earbud out of his right ear. “Hey,” he says.

“Why didn’t you answer the door?!”

He furrows his brow in confusion. “What?”

“I was pounding on the door. You couldn’t hear me? I had to climb through my bedroom window!”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t hear you.” He turns in his chair to glance over his shoulder into the living room. “Sorry, I thought you had your keys.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

He winces. “You should really take your keys with you,” he says. “Better than leaving the doors unlocked. This is a terrible neighborhood.”

I bite down hard as I look him up and down. So casual and aloof, as if he didn’t fucking plan this.

“How did you not hear me?!” I ask.

“Oh,” he holds up his earbud, “I’m listening to this finance podcast. Did you know that stock market is over four-hundred years old? Crazy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s fucking riveting,” I say. “Seth, there is no way you couldn’t hear me over those cheap-ass discount earbuds.”

Seth reaches for the bottle of water on the table and brings it to his lips. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jenna. Sorry.”

He takes a sip. My cheeks catch fire again.

“What is that?” I ask.

He twists the cap onto the now empty bottle. “It’s water,” he answers.

“It’s my water. It has my name on it. It’s mine.”

Seth tilts it in his hand to read it. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“I thought that was just some obscure brand or something,” he says, snorting.

“You thought I drank a brand of water called Jenna?” I seethe.

“I mean...” He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not that far-fetched, is it?”

He tosses the bottle over my head and it tumbles into the trashcan behind me.

I take a breath. Then another.

“We recycle,” I say.

“That’s smart.”

I turn away, but I notice the patch on his navy blue blazer. Gold lettering. A very recognizable logo.

“You...” I bite down. “You work at the Botsford Plaza Hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you staying there instead?!”

His eyes bleed with sincerity. “Jenna, I’m here for you.”

“For me?”

“You didn’t want to be alone, and I get that!” He places his hand over his heart. “I mean, I was home alone for not three hours before my life was put at risk. The thought of something like that — or worse — happening to you...” His lips twitch. “Well, it honestly tickles a bit, but I can’t live with that on my conscience, so here I am.”

I growl. I literally fucking growl.

“Seth...”

“Yes, Jenna?”

“Get. Out.”

“Shoot!” He quickly checks his watch. “You’re right. I should get going. Don’t want to be late for work.”

“No,” I say as he stands. “I mean, get out. You’re not staying here anymore.”

He hums. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Seth—”

“Look, Jenna, I don’t like this any more than you do,” he says as he adjusts his blazer. “I’m here for you, but mostly, I’m here for my sister. If you kick me out now, then... what will she think about that?”

“I don’t care,” I say, plowing right through the guilt building in my gut. “I want you out. Today.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“No, you’ll get out. Today.”

He walks off into the living room. “Have a good day, Jenna!”

“Seth...” I follow him, pausing in the doorway as he reaches the front door. “I mean it. Do not come back!”

He closes the door behind him, cutting me off. I charge forward to look at him through the window blinds as he climbs into that big, stupid, orange truck.

Still growling with my breath, I watch him drive off while my rage boils beneath the surface.

I stomp away toward the bathroom, but double back to lock the door.

And stay out.