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Was she mad? Shedidn?t care; a little part of her relished her recklessness. She wanted him, thefire inside her getting hotter with every step she too.... He opened the door and led her inside. ?Well here we are, home sweet home? He said, with a sweeping gesture of his arm. She lookedaround the flat and shivered; it was dark, dank, cold and had a certain kind ofmusty smell about it. The furniture was scarce and old, a single bed wasagainst one wall, with peeling pink flowered wallpaper and damp. Wordlessly, he gulped them down.Nothing was exchanged between us for the few minutes it took me to make him a couple of pancakes, and then, halfway through his breakfast, Dad broke the ice. "What happened to your lip? Anyone hit ya?"I shot him a cold look before I reminded myself that it wasn't the same guy. "You could say that," I said, sitting in front of him. "You hit on me yesterday night with a bottle of booze inside you."Dad didn't say anything until he had finished his coffee. "I didn't. More

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