Burke curls his arms around me. “Here to deliver whatever you need. How was therapy today?”
The weight of therapy over the last while has put me in deep sleeps I didn’t know I needed, but he has never thought I was lazy or said anything demeaning, only made sure I had food and water and was comfortable.
Endless nights I’ve spent crying against his chest, and he never falters or says I’m too much, or that he’s going to find someone else. It’s hard to trust another person, but Burke never gives me any reason for doubt, and my therapist has been loud with those facts.
“We mainly focused on what’s been happening the last couple weeks, like a venting session you paid a lot for.” I close my eyes. The digs don’t help, but I cannot seem to stop them as much as I would like.
“I’d pay for you to say nothing at all. Whatever helps, Clara. Life hasn’t been easy on you, and now it’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.”
I roll in his arms to look up into his icy blue eyes. “Why? What do you get out of it? You don’t have a debt to pay.”
He strokes my hair, curling it around my ear. Kissing my forehead, he pulls away and I swear he stares into my soul, seeing through all my barriers and insecurities.
“I don’t feel like I have a debt to pay. I’ve wasted more than half my life not putting my faith into someone. After Ryan’s mother, I never wanted to endure the pain of potential heartbreak. Clara, you make me want to be something better. You save me in ways I can’t even begin to express.”
His words warm me, but I deflect. “Maybeyou’rethe one who needs therapy.”
“Yeah, maybe. Goodnight, Dragonfly. Figure out details of the date you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you. Sweet dreams, Burke.”
I turn away from him, but his arm keeps me close. After I killed Andrew, I still had nightmares for about a week, but they’ve almost dissolved, and any bits left over in my mind are quickly replaced by his vacant stare.
I know it will take time, and although I refuse the medication, there is that option.
“What a crazy day it’s been,” Bailey says as we clean up. “I appreciate you showing me so much. I feel like I’m never gonna get the hang of the till, though.”
I finish sweeping and glance at her mopping the floors before tying off the garbage's. “It’ll come. You can’t be a master at everything.”
“True, but I just feel dumb. On another note, that couple that came in today for pie and coffee was adorable!”
Smiling, I put in fresh bags. “They come in once a week and always ask for two forks. They give me hope that relationships really do work. Also, you’re not dumb. Don’t talk about my friend that way.”
Bailey wipes her forehead and fixes the bandana around her bright blue hair. “Don’t make me say nice things about myself. It’s torture.”
“Fine, but hurry up. Burke’s here, and I’m dead tired.” I bring the trash to the back and make sure all the evening-shift stuff is done.
She wheels the mop bucket to the back as she flips off the lights. “Did you clear it with Debbie that we could close early tomorrow? It seems silly for a double date. We could do it next week when she’s back.”
“It’s fine. We’ll be open longer this weekend.”
Bailey grabs the bags of trash from the day and glances over her shoulder. “Thank you. I’ve never been with someone like George. I always fall for the douchebag, you know? The wrong guy, toxic or controlling.”
On my final pass through the storefront, I see a brown envelope on the counter and grab it before heading to the back office. “I’m glad we can go. I’ve never had a double date. I understand—you deserve the fucking best, though. Don’t take the garbage out without me.”
“Yes,mom,” Bailey says with a laugh.
Opening the envelope, I pull out pictures. My chest tightens, and the room closes around me. Barely able to catch my breath, I stare at my stepfather dead on the dirty living-room floor.
This is before Burke’s cleanup guy would have gotten there. I thumb through them with shaky hands as sweat beads on the nape of my neck. There are five showing what was done to him, but at least I’m not in any of them.
“Bailey, who dropped this off?” I ask after dumping them back inside and closing it up.
“It was on the counter earlier. I meant to put it under. You were on break, and I was doing some dishes. I never noticed anyone. What’s in it?”
My thoughts race, trying to think of anything but the evidence inside. “Just random hiking pictures. I’ll try to find the owner online.”
“Can we go?”
