“So what happened yesterday?”
I settle into a chair in the corner of the dark room. Smells of cooking fat and stale beer waft up from the taproom. I don’t know why he stays in this pit. Wait. Yes, I do.
“You know what happened.” Jarod’s voice, cold, hard comes from the bed.
“You scared the tavern owner half to death and…?”
“Am I allowed time to recover? To get used to this?”
“You’ve had a day.” I stand and brush the dust and dirt from my clothes. I tug at the shutters and grey, morning light bursts into the fusty room.
“You enjoy this,” Jarod mutters.
“I’m a writer.” I shrug. “Making your life hard is what I have to do.”
I stare at the man as he shoves aside the covers. I can see why Shena screamed…
I ignore the twinge of guilt. It’s necessary. I thought Jarod had accepted that.