We both know he’s not complimenting me. I take a deep breath, try not to let it show that my hands are shaking. I’ve dealt with his type before. I’ve taken away children from degenerates just like him.

I decide to come clean. “Ruth has been staying with me. She’s out right now.”

“Can I come in?” He moves his foot like he’ll barricade the door anyway. You don’t have a choice, sweetheart, he’s saying.

“Sure. I’m making coffee. Would you like one? I don’t know when Ruth will be back, though.” I leave the door open and walk toward the kitchen, my mind racing. I can hear him behind me, the skid of his shoes on the floor. “She’s out with my husband.” Is my voice level? “He shouldn’t be long.”

“You know who I am?” Eli’s looking around, just like Ruth did when she first walked into this place.

“You’re the man my sister left behind,” I say.

“Oh, so you do know me.” He touches his hand to his chest as if flattered.

“She doesn’t want to see you. What are you doing showing up here now?”

He’s wiry but strong. I wonder how many real fights he’s been in, though. By the stove is a heavy china mug. I move it closer to me.

“She told you that?” he asks, and he pulls a stool out from the counter and sits on it, crossing his arms. “Ruth, Ruth, Ruth.”

I wonder, did my sister really leave before he found out she was pregnant? The coffeepot starts to sputter and gag behind us.

“Look, is there something I can help you with?” I keep my eyes on him.

“Funny you should ask. She took something from me. I want it back.”

Fuck. There it is. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.”

I set my jaw but move my fingers to the handle of the cutlery drawer.

“You’re sisters. You know everything she knows.”

“I do not,” I say. “You couldn’t be more wrong about that.”

“You’re shaking,” he says, and he stands up.

“I am not. I’m not afraid of you.”

“No? You should be.” He rounds the corner of the countertop, moving toward me in a fast, straight line.

The knife I grab is the small paring one, Chase’s favorite for dicing vegetables, the one he keeps extra sharp. Eli thinks he’s quicker than me, but I’ve lived among these lowlife scum who think they have power. He grabs at my shoulder but I bring up the knife and the blade catches him under his chin. Both of his hands go there, and he stops in his tracks, his pale eyes wide.