Page 17 of Jolene's Justice

Dammit, Natalie.Her friends were determined to keep pushing the two of them together. She’d never explained to any of them what had happened. It really wasn’t her secret to tell.

As far as she knew, Finch had never divulged the status of his marriage to any of his friends. There had never been any whispers or knowing glances exchanged between them. She had always assumed the women would make a big deal out of it if they’d known, but they never did. A sense of unease curled in her stomach as she sat there, wondering why he had chosen to keep such an important aspect of his life hidden from those closest to him. She had a nagging feeling that there was a reason for that.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if you need to leave, feel free to go.”

“Not gonna happen, but okay.”

Chapter 8

AfterpromisingDantethey’dstop back in soon, they were back in the car, heading toward her childhood home. Trepidation pervaded her thoughts as she approached the house, wondering if Dante’s description of its condition was accurate.

“If you want, I’ll get a room after we get you settled in your dad’s house. Just point me in the direction of a hotel.”

The suggestion surprised her, as she had assumed he would be by her side at all times. Based on his repeated promises that he wouldn’t leave her alone, she figured he’d stick to her like glue.

She should give him the name of any of a dozen hotels in the area, but she found herself instead saying, “That’s not necessary. There’s plenty of room at the house.”Shit.Why did she say that? She wanted distance from him, not the tight quarters of cohabitating. She felt like the protagonist in one of her beloved romance novels. Only she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be a happy ending for her.

Finch darted a glance at her as he drove. The sun had set, and the SUV’s interior was now shrouded in darkness, except for the faint glow of the dashboard lights. Kicking herself for her suggestion, Jolene kept her eyes transfixed on the road as the headlights created a tunnel-vision effect in front.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. There are four spare bedrooms. Plenty of space.” Keeping her true feelings to herself, she bit her lip and looked away. She could feel Finch’s eyes on her as he considered her words.

Finally, he said, “Okay. If you’re sure. That’d make things easier to get the work done faster.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” Internally, she groaned at her stilted words. Could she sound any more like an idiot?

“You okay?” Yup. He’d noticed her descent into stupid land.

“Sure. Fine. Just tired.” More stilted words. What was wrong with her?

He was silent for a long time before he finally relented. “Okay.”

Thankfully, they pulled into the driveway of the house. The sight of the overgrown lawn and peeling paint on the exterior made her uneasy. If the outside was this rundown, she couldn’t imagine what the inside looked like.

As she walked toward the house, her heart beat a little faster. The creaking sound of the old wooden and warped boards as she climbed the porch steps echoed in her ears, and she could smell the musty scent of neglect that lingered in the air. Broken spindles and remnants of the railing lay in a tangled heap, surrounded by overgrown weeds in the flowerbed. The sight of the gaping hole in the porch railing where her father had fallen through made her stomach clench. She ignored it and focused on the front door.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out to unlock the door. She turned the knob, the metal cool against her fingertips. Pushing the door open, a cloud of dust rose up, tickling her nose and making her eyes water. As she stepped inside, the uneven floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and an uneasy feeling about what else she would find only added to her anxiety. She braced herself for the worst.

Walking farther into the house, she was overwhelmed with sadness at seeing the once bright and sunny home in its current state. The musty smell of old furniture and damp walls filled her nostrils, making her feel a little dizzy.

Memories bombarded her as she walked through the family room. This was her home. The place where she’d been a happy-go-lucky child. She could still hear her dad’s booming voice echo through the house as he called to her mother in the kitchen, asking about his keys. The man couldn’t keep track of a single item if his life depended on it. She had no idea how he’d managed since her mother had died.

A moonbeam and dust moats danced in the light, illuminating the corner where they put the Christmas tree every year. The dust and grime had accumulated in every nook and cranny of the house, and it desperately needed a thorough cleaning. Regular household chores were not her father’s thing, and it showed.

The squalid conditions her father had been living in left her feeling heartbroken. A single lamp in the corner lit the room dimly, casting shadows on the empty food containers and clothes strewn across the floor. The threadbare couch her father often napped on was stained with God knew what, and the musty air made it hard to breathe.

She made her way through the house, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. When she reached the kitchen, she flicked on the light switch and was met with the sight of overflowing garbage bins, grimy dishes piled high in the sink, and a thick layer of dust coating every surface. She wrinkled her nose at the putrid smell, which made her stomach turn. The sound of buzzing flies filled the air, and the only light came from a flickering bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling. What had happened to the pendent style light fixture that had once been her mother’s pride and joy?

She recoiled in horror and let out a sound of disgust when a cockroach scurried across the filthy floor. The revolting creature made her back away, but the hard wall of muscle behind her stopped her. Startled, she realized Finch had been following her all along as his hands rested on her shoulders.

His voice was filled with concern as he asked, “Are you okay?”

The weight of what she had seen in the house was too much for her to bear, and she allowed herself a moment to rest against him. He held her loosely in a hug, with one arm wrapped over her upper chest while the sink’s leaky faucet dripped steadily. His presence radiated warmth and steeliness, which seeped into her and provided a small boost of encouragement.

She sighed. “Yeah. I’m good. It’s not as bad as I thought.”

She felt him nod behind her. “Aside from the porch, most of this looks cosmetic. A little elbow grease and a fresh coat of paint should do it.”

---