Her eyes lock on mine. No more fear in them. No more hope either. Just clarity. Cold and cutting.
“I know exactly what I need to do now.”
“Josie.” Her name shreds out of my throat.
She turns.
Walks to the door.
And this time, this damn time, she doesn’t look back.
The pantry door swings open, lets in a blast of hot kitchen air, then slams shut behind her with a finality that echoes in my bones.
And I just stand there.
Frozen.
What the hell is going on in my messed-up life now?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Josie
I don’t sleep.
Not really.
I lie in bed, curled around the ache in my stomach, watching shadows crawl across the ceiling as the sky turns from charcoal to steel to the soft, bruised blue of morning.
The world starts to stir outside my window, birds, trucks, the low hum of life going on, and I feel like I’m suspended in time. Numb. Heavy.
Empty and full at the same time.
I keep going over it. The look on his face. The way he flinched like I’d stabbed him. The way his voice turned cold, suspicious, cruel.
“How do you even know?”
The words keep echoing, over and over, no matter how hard I try to shut them out.
By the time the sun rises, I know I can’t stay in this bed. I can’t stay in this house. I can’t stay in this.
I’m still wrapped in a blanket on the couch, hands cradling a mug of cold tea I never drank, when my phone buzzes.
I almost ignore it.
But something makes me glance down.
Chef Adela Vaughn – Missed Call
My heart stutters.
Adela?
She was my mentor back in culinary school. Tough as nails, brilliant, intimidating in the best way. She taught me how to butcher a chicken in under three minutes and how to swear in three languages. I haven’t heard from her in over a year.
A second later, a voicemail comes through. Then a text.
>> Hey, Josie. Call me back when you can. Got something I want to run by you. Exciting stuff.
