“Mm-hmm.” More than okay.
A couple minutes later, he killed the engine in hisdriveway. Her mouth was dry, her legs wobbly. Being on heels all day, she suspected, had nothing to do with it.
She followed him into the front door. He greeted Radish with an affectionate ear scratch, then led Anna up the stairs. She didn’t want to sleep in the guest bed, but she couldn’t share his bed with him tonight.
Not when she couldn’t guarantee Neil wouldn’t sneak into her head.
The guest room was sparsely furnished but comfortable. A simple maroon comforter covered the double bed. The small bookcase held an assortment of science fiction novels with the occasional Mae Daniels novel tucked in between.
Good. Switching out the three she’d borrowed had been in her plans too.That, at least, she’d follow through on. Jackson had good taste in romance novels.
Also not something she would’ve guessed about him.
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said. “Anything else I can get you?”
Some good old-fashioned comforting sounded nice. “I’m okay.”
He pulled two more packets of ketchup from inside his jacket and put them on the small bookshelf beside the bed. “Need anything else, I’ll be downstairs.”
She dropped her hands before she could reach for him. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You go on and get some sleep. Gonna need it to fix me up that big old breakfast you promised.”
“I didn’t?—”
He flashed agotchagrin. She sighed, but her lips curved up.
Being in his house made the pressure in her head ease. Madeallof her pressure ease.
He was a good friend.
“’Night, Anna Grace.”
Then he was gone.
She perched on the edge of the bed and peeled off hershoes. The bed creaked beneath her, the smell of Jackson’s laundry detergent wafting up from the sheets. She wondered if the noise carried downstairs.
She retrieved her bag from beside the door. A door shut downstairs. Outside, Radish gave a single happy bark. Anna was intruding on their quality time, man and dog, their own little family unit.
Kaci and Lance were like family, and Jules and Brad were akin to dysfunctional cousins who happened to live nearby, but she missed the quiet home family time. Reading a book on the couch while someone else flipped channels on the TV. Sharing meals.
Not being alone.
She dug into her bag for her Tylenol, then slipped down the hall for water.
His bathroom, like the rest of the house, was sparsely decorated. She suspected the green paint was original from when he’d moved in. Two navy towels dangled from the towel rack, and a navy hand towel was crinkled on a hook next to the sink.
The image in the mirror wasn’t something she was prepared for. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mascara gooped. Her lipstick had worn off but for a single dark ring around her lips, and her cheeks were pale. Except, of course, for a baseball-sized peppering of round, purple bruises rising on her left temple.
She gulped down the pills, then rummaged in the drawers of the vanity for a washcloth. She scrubbed her face clean and let her hair down, then rinsed with some mouthwash she’d found.
Back in the bedroom, she dug into her overnight bag again for the T-shirt she’d intended to wear tomorrow. She lifted her arm and gave the side zipper on her dress a tug.
It didn’t budge.
She twisted her head, holding her arm aloft, and peeked inside the dress. Nothing seemed stuck, so she gave the zipperanother tug.
The zipper’s pull tab snapped off between her fingers.
A strangled moan slipped from her lips. “Are you kidding me?”
