Page 122 of Pretty Little Threats

The mistakes I’ve made cost me so much, even if I don’t fully understand everything yet. But I will. The warnings in my head are screaming at me to leave it alone.

To let it be.

But I can’t.

I have to know the truth, and the only way to do that is to find it myself.

My driver stops outside Irene’s house. I set my coffee in the cupholder and get out, climbing up the steps of her worn porch with my stomach in my throat. The siding on her small home is chipped and peeling. My heart trembles in my chest as I lift my fist and knock.

Please.

I don’t know if I’m begging the universe for Dare or my dad to be right. Either way, it ends with my trust betrayed.

Shivering in the chill of December’s beginning, I wait with bated breath as the door slowly opens. Warm air washes over me as it’s ripped from the house by the cruel pre-winter wind.

A soft inhale. “Rose?” Irene’s familiar voice almost knocks me over.

My knees buckle, and I grasp the railing for support. I take in the soft wrinkles, the streaks of gray in her hair. Oh, thank god. She’s safe. She’s not dead. Dare didn’t hurt her.

Irene’s gaze clouds with concern as she studies me. “What are you doing here? Where’s your coat?”

“You’re okay,” I rasp, staring at her as tears prick the edges of my eyes.

“Of course I am, sweet girl, but you’re not. Come in and sit down before you catch a cold.” She grabs my arm and pulls me in.

I follow without protest. Her grip is steady and strong. Healthy. Safe. Dare wasn’t lying. I’ve never been so relieved.

A baby’s soft cries fill the house. “Let me grab my granddaughter,” Irene says, releasing me and leaving me in her small entryway.

There’s a worn wooden coat rack on the wall. Scarves and jackets and hats hang from every hook. The tray on the floor for boots is ready for the first snowfall, and Irene’s shoes are carefully tucked into cubbies.

It’s so simple, but knowing she’s been preparing for winter and not rotting somewhere brings another wave of tears. I sniff and swipe my hands over my cheeks before Irene comes back. Her house smells like sweets. Like happiness and love. Like you can come here and know you’ll be safe.

Irene returns, holding her grandchild in her arms. She kisses her chubby cheeks. “I’m sorry, I would have cleaned if I knew you were coming.” She glances around with a frown. Like her home is something to be ashamed of.

That fact that she thinks I care guts me.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I assure her. “I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. My father told me you haven’t been coming in to work, and I was worried and I...” I trail off with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. This is your home and none of my business.”

“Rose,” Irene says, voice gentle. “It’s okay. Will you come sit?” She tips her head toward the living room.

“I’d love that.”

Beaming, she bounces the baby in her arms and murmurs to the child as she leads me into the living room. I take a seat on her couch, and she sets the baby on the floor near a cluster of toys before joining me.

With a sigh, she looks at me. “I should have called to give my notice, but I’ve taken another job.”

“Oh?”

She nods and glances away. “Mr. Richardson offered me better pay and a challenge. He’s training me to be an executive assistant.” Irene glances at me, brushing her hand over her graying hair. “Who would have thought an old girl like me could learn new tricks?”

My mouth opens, then snaps shut.

The video my dad showed me had nothing to do with Dare threatening her. “Dare gave you a job?”

She nods. “I hope you’re not mad.”

Swallowing the bile, I shake my head. “Don’t be silly. If it’s better pay and you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

---