Page 142 of Like A Moth To A Flame

Stepping up to the door, she pulled a tarnished old keyring out of her pocket and slipped the key into the lock, popping the door open and ushering me inside.

The moment I walked inside, the musty scent of a building sitting neglected hit me in the face. I smelled the typical scent of a vet’s office—cat and dog urine, antiseptic, and the long faded scent of lit candles trying to cover it all up.

The front room was the same as I remembered it—blue plastic chairs lining the walls beneath faded anatomy posters and advertisements for Eukanuba and Royal Canin dog food. Along the opposite wall, a long, low desk sat in front of the door leading to the back, still decorated with brightly colored plastic eggs and pink and blue rabbit statues.

“Rick passed just a little after Easter,” Tammy said. “His daughter didn’t have the heart to come in and clean the place out,so everything is still here. The kennels in the back, and some surgical equipment. But I reckon if you plan on re-opening the old place—”

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, stepping over to the light switch on the wall. I flipped it with a satisfying click, but the room stayed dark. The electricity was off.

“Needs a new roof,” Tammy said, turning away as she stepped up to the front desk, placing her clipboard down on the dusty wood and flipping through the papers. “Ray said he’ll give the new buyer a discount on that work, of course. Other than that, it’s all just paint and cleanin’.”

“How much?” I asked, running my hand along the wall. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in short, shaking bursts.

Was I doing this? I was doing this, wasn’t I?

“A little over eighty thousand. Five acres out back, all fenced. Privately owned, by Rick’s daughter and son, of course, so no bank to deal with, and—”

“How soon can I sign the papers?” I asked, turning to her.

Iwasdoing this.

Tammy looked up at me, blinking owlishly, before her eyes dropped to the front of my throat and she went silent, clearing her throat as she forced her eyes away, her soft cheeks glowing a dark shade of red in the low light. What did she see that had her blushing like that?

“Well, I’ve got ‘em right here,” she said, her fingers shaking as she flipped through her papers, pulling out a stack and laying it across the counter. She pulled a pen out of her jacket pocket and placed it beside the papers with a soft click.

Stepping up beside her, I didn’t meet her eyes as I picked up the pen. I didn’t read the papers. I didn’t need to. I signed at the bottom, my hand shivering and the ink jumping across the whiteness of the paper. I repeated the process twice more, and when I’d finally finished, I sat the pen down with a slap of plastic on wood and a soft, whooshing release of breath.

I did it.

“That was simple enough, I guess,” Tammy chuckled, reaching out and gathering up the papers, tapping them across the counter as she gathered them in a neat little pile. “I’ll call Laura and Nathan and let them know their dad’s old place sold. Glad to see it’ll be serving its purpose once again.”

When she reached out a hand to shake mine, it wasn’t lost on me how she looked at the floor and not my eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, I blinked at her.

“Somethin’ wrong?” I asked, and I watched her shoulders tense as she sighed, looking up at me with a glance that fell to the front of my neck. She cleared her throat when she turned away.

My hand raised to the neckline of my turtleneck, fingers dancing across the front of my collar.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said with a forced chuckle. She waved a hand between us as if pushing the subject off the table entirely.

“What?” I asked. Something in my stomach told me I didn’t want to know, but at this point, my pride wouldn’t let me let it go.

“It’s just that…” she sighed, clipping the stack of papers to the clipboard once again, and holding it to her chest, tucking it into the safety of her jacket as she straightened. “People have been talkin’.Small-town gossip, I’m sure. Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

The look on her face was telling—like a terrified rabbit running from a pack of hunting dogs, desperate to make it into her den before their fangs pulled out her fur.

Was I the dog in this situation? Or was it someone else?

“Talking about what?” I asked.

She sighed, and the look on her face was like a mom being asked about sex for the first time. She was uncomfortable, and it showed.

“Tommy Eades has been hangin’ around a lot, is all,” she says, and the color in her cheeks darkened.

“So, what’s wrong with that?”

Confusion had given way to anger, and my heart was racing again. When I lifted a hand to flick a stray bit of hair out of my eyes, my fingers were cold and shaking. Was it that there was no heat in here, or had my anger sucked all the blood out of my extremities?

“Well, it’s just…” She stopped and looked down at the floor with narrowed eyes as if the conclusion she was struggling to reach was written across the floorboards for her to see. “He’s quite a bit older than you, and—”

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