Page 155 of Keeping Kasey
I can’t tell from his blank expression whether he believes me, but he doesn’t press.
I’m not sure what comes over me, but once the question comes to me, I can’tnotask.
“When you realized the list was gone, did he even take a second to consider it might not have been my fault?”
“No,” he admits.
“That’s what I—”
“But,” James starts with a pointed look, “he spent a lot more than a second considering it afterward.”
“A little late.”
“Maybe,” he says. “Last question.”
I gesture for him to go on.
“Where will you go when this is all over?”
“You really think I’d tell you?”
“So, you do have a plan?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you really trying to ask?”
“Are you thinking about sticking around?”
My laugh is cold. “Trust me when I tell you I’m counting down the seconds until I can get as far from your family as possible.”
Around six, Damon showed up from wherever he’d been to tell me it was time to leave, but when I told him I’d rather stay and work for a few more hours, he didn’t argue.
Work is the only thing keeping my mind occupied.
If I stop for more than five seconds, I’ll dwell on Ford’s confession and James’s questions. I don’t have the mental capacity for that right now. The idea of going back to the hotel with nothing to do butthinksounds like torture.
But after three more hours in front of a screen, my eyes are burning, and my brain is moving in slow motion. I’ve successfully worked myself into exhaustion, and when I push away from the desk, I’m fairly certain I’ll crash as soon as I get back to the hotel.
With what little energy I have left, I brace myself for Damon to question me like Ford and James had, but he doesn’t. He plays the radio and hums along like I’m not here at all.
Somehow, Damon knows being invisible is what I need right now.
He pulls up to the hotel, and I climb out without a word. The hallway on my floor is empty, and I trudge to my room,holding onto my mask of indifference with metaphorical bloody knuckles.
The ache in my chest becomes unbearable the moment I step into my room. The effort it takes to get through a single day here is absurd. Luckily, I don’t anticipate needing more than two or three days to finish the job.
Then I can leave here for good.
I throw my bag on the desk and am about to fall into bed fully dressed, but two grocery bags sit on my pillow.
What the…
I open them and pull out the items one by one.
A bottle of melatonin, a box of caffeinated tea, a pack of energy drinks, bath salts, a compact noise machine, a sleep mask, essential oils, and a diffuser.
Whatever self-pity I’d been feeling is long gone, replaced by an anger that is far more comfortable.
This I can handle just fine.
