Chapter 27
Tim pushed up from the couch and kicked a beer can out of his path on the way to the door. He crouched to look through the peephole and swore under his breath. Shit. He’d forgotten Bree was coming by to pick up Mitzy.
He swung the door open. “Hey. Give me a few minutes, I need to get her things together.”
Bree frowned and looked at him with concern. “Take your time. Jase is on a trip this weekend so I’m in no rush.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know, but I forgot you were coming today. Sorry.”
“I can come back later if that’s better.”
“No. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She closed the door behind her and followed him into the living room but stopped at the threshold. “Are you all right? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Long couple of days.”
“Is this about the fire?”
“Some of it.” He picked up the metal water bowl and carried it into the kitchen, pouring what was left in it into the sink and rinsing it out. He stacked it on top of the matching food dish and placed both into the plastic bin that held the dog food. All that was left was the bed and he’d finally be by himself. Again.
Fuck, that was a depressing thought. He’d gotten used to spending time with Zoe. That had been the hardest part of not seeing her for the last couple of days.
He missed her. But not enough to force himself somewhere he wasn’t wanted.
“Tim?”
“What?” Bree had asked him something and he’d completely spaced. It wasn’t like him to zone out like that.
“I asked if this was about Zoe.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Bree sat in the recliner next to the couch. “How is she doing?”
“Two days ago, she wasn’t handling it so well.”
“You haven’t talked to her in two days?”
Fuck. Looked like it was therapy time. Jase had told him once that Bree was a good listener. Hell, maybe she’d have some words of wisdom for him on how to get over Zoe.
“You want a beer?” he asked. If he was going to bare his soul to his soon-to-be sister-in-law, he needed a beer.
“Sure.”
He grabbed two longnecks from the fridge, popped the tops, and brought them back to the living room. Handing her one, he dropped into the corner of the couch closest to her and took a long pull from his bottle.
“So what happened?” she asked.
He picked at the label on the bottle and told her about the fire and discovering the building’s owner was the one who set it.
“Do you know why he set it?”
“Probably the most fucked-up, selfish reason I could never even imagine.”
Her eyebrows rose and she tilted her head, waiting for the reveal.
“He’s getting a divorce and his wife was getting the building since she was able to show that she put up the initial down payment for it. He figured by starting the fire in the restaurant, it would look like an accident and he’d get the insurance money from the sale.”
