Page 11 of Debt of My Soul

“He’s been really helpful. Sounded like he needed the work too.”

“I’m sure he does.”

I narrow my eyes at the sweet old woman who’s not acting so sweet at the moment. Obviously, I’m missing something.

I help myself to a bottle of water Mrs. Northgate keeps on hand for housekeepers and the young groundskeepers. Mr. Northgate utilizes high schoolers instead of keeping a full-time gardener or maintenance personnel. Usually, they’ve commandeered all the beverages for themselves in this summer heat.

“I’m hoping I can at least determine the countertops,” I say, smiling and trying to get over the awkwardness at the topic of Adam.

She nods, then turns to continue mixing the pecans for another round in the oven while I hunt for my time sheet.

Finally, I end up clocking out right after the first guests arrive and drive across town to the home improvement store. I pull into the parking spot and immediately flip down the car mirror to pinch my cheeks and dab on some lip gloss.

You’re being ridiculous.

Maybe so. But the truth is, I like how distracted I am when I’m with Adam. There’s always something to talk about or renovation decisions to be made. Falling into conversation with him is easy. What’s even easier—ignoring the pain and hurt I’m feeling.

Like clockwork, my phone dings with another message from Chris.

Answer me, Fleur.

I glance at the others before that.

So, you left?

Are you coming back?

Where are you?

Can we talk?

How do I speak with him? How do I talk to the man who ripped my heart out and beat it to death with the heel of the college girl he was screwing behind my back.

I smack the wheel, anticipation over seeing Adam now gone—another moment stolen by Chris and perpetuated by none other than me.

My fingers find the rubber bands on my wrist, and I roll them each between my thumb and forefinger. The smooth elastic is soft and pliable but meets resistance as I draw it taut. They hover there, above my arm, before I let them snap. The distinct sting bites into my wrist as I release the two bands. Angry, raised red welts appear instantly.

Only a tiny amount of pain for distraction.

There’s always the need for distraction.

Especially in the last month.

A knock on my jeep’s window spooks me and I jump. My elbow bumps the horn for a short beep that draws the attention of people in the parking lot. Adam’s muffled laugh through the glass softens the instant panic, and I give him a light wave before opening the door.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to distract you.”

My gaze snaps to his, and I hold his deep brown eyes as I swallow at his words. He tilts his head, bringing a hand up to graze my elbow.

“Hey … are you all right?” he asks.

“I will be,” I say.

He winks, tossing a thumb in the direction of the sliding double doors. “Let’s go then.”

Chapter 6

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