Page 94 of Sergeant O'
Chapter Forty-Five
Jade
Penny Lane wove her way under my legs as I sat with my back against the door, bawling my eyes out.
I grabbed her, pulled her against my chest, and nuzzled her furry face against mine.
“Hi, sweet kitty. I missed you, too. Were you good for Lainey?”
Lainey was one of the few people that my cat would actually tolerate.
Brian was another.
The thought made me start crying again.
Penny let me cry for a few more minutes, then as if to tell me to get my shit together, she leaned down and bit my hand before taking off.
“Ow!” I examined my hand and saw she hadn’t drawn blood. Still… “Point taken!” I called after her before I peeled myself off the floor.
I glanced at the time and realized I’d missed dinner. Still, the idea of food didn’t appeal to me, so I settled on making a cup of chamomile, hoping it would help me relax.
As I waited for the tea bag to steep, I picked up my backpack by the door and took it into the laundry room. All it took was pulling out the mint-green dress Brian had bought me for the waterworks to start again.
My cat came into the laundry room, jumped up onto the dryer, then reached over and batted my arm.
“Okay! Okay!” I muttered, wiping my cheeks while I half-laughed, half-sobbed. “No more crying tonight; I promise. At least not in front of you.”
I could always go into my room and shut the door if the need arose again. But I appreciated Penny not wanting to see me acting pathetic.
“Come on, let’s get you a treat.”
After getting her salmon-flavored snack, Penny took off into the other room, and I sat down at the kitchen table to drink my tea.
A soft tapping on the window made me jump, and I looked over to see Brian standing on the other side of the glass, mouthing, “Sorry!” Then he pointed inside and asked a muffled, “Can I come in?”
My stupid heart soared at the idea, and I pointed to the garage.
Then I practically raced through the garage to unlock the side door and open it. He’d just rounded the corner of the house, and when he saw me waiting, he gave me a smile that made my toes curl.
“How did you get here?” I asked as I ushered him into the garage.
“I walked.”
I stopped moving toward the house.
“You walked? Are you insane? Your leg has got to be killing you!”
He shrugged. “Nothing a few ibuprofen can’t fix.”
I stared at him for a beat before we started toward the house again.
When we got inside, I picked up my backpack from the floor next to the washer and fished through the front pocket for the ibuprofen bottle. I handed it to him, still trying to figure out why he was standing in my laundry room instead of his own living room.
I blurted out, “Why are you here?”
“I didn’t like how we left things tonight.”
One sentence was all it took for a rush of relief to flood through me.
