I rake my eyes over her as I reluctantly put together another piece of her puzzle. “Take it he’s the one who put his hands on you?”
“Yeah,” she says tightly, like she hates to admit it. “Anyway, he moved out months ago, even though it was technically his apartment. But .?.?. a few days ago—”
“He kicked you out.”
She doesn’t deny it and I curse under my breath.
“It was a blessing. The place had all kinds of building violations.” She looks up at me and shrugs. “I’ve sort of got this last-resort place I can stay in the city until I find an apartment. But the woman’s having a photoshoot of half-naked men there today, so I can’t move in until Sunday.”
There’s a resentment in her voice that makes me ask. “This .?.?. ‘last resort’ is .?.?.?”
“My mother.”
I give a small nod, then lift the piano lid. “Fine-tune away.” A spark flickers across her face and I hold up a finger. “Butstayout of my way.”
There’s a subtle nod as she holds my eyes—hers mixed with silent gratitude and embarrassment. But it’s only a flash before she recovers quickly from both.
“Again,” she nods humbly, like the favor is the other way around. “You’re welcome.”
I sigh, muttering as I walk away. “I’m going to regret this.”
About an hour later, Willow manages to find her charger—rolled up and stuffed in a side pocket of her suitcase. She made a big production of coming out here to the back porch to tell me exactly where she found it and how she “totally spaced” but that her coming out here was not to be mistaken for “getting in my way” but more of an “informative drop-by.” Then she skipped on back into the house. I can’t imagine she’d got very far inside while I’ve been out here, sanding and painting the porch rail and steps.
I hear her inside on the phone with Rose and sigh.
It shouldn’t have taken me two hours on this part of the house. But it’s hard to stay focused when it’s quiet as an empty field out here and she’s inside humming to some tune stuck in her head. Prancing around the kitchen and unloading boxes like there’s some order to her madness.
I can still hear her in there—see her through the clear sliding doors. Right now she’s multitasking with Rose in her ear and a dust wand in her hands.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I sigh before pulling it out to check it.
Wilder:Letting her stay the weekend, huh?
Dallas:You’re welcome.
I don’t know why I let her stay. But it’s safe to let my brother believe it was to give him and Rose the chance to get away like he planned.
Wilder:Never met her but she once held me hostage and grilled me on my intentions when I answered Rose’s phone.
Dallas:Sounds right.
Wilder:Say the word, we’ll come pick her up.
Say it? I should be screaming it. Instead, I shake my head like I’m doing him the favor here too and slip the phone back in my pocket. It vibrates again.
Wilder:Going once .?.?. Going twice.
Dallas:It’s only a day and a half.
Wilder:And how’s the last twelve hours work out so far?
Dallas:Go before I change my mind.
It’s quiet when I return to the house from a few stops in town. It’s almost sunset. Empty boxes are broken down by the back door. A wholelotof empty boxes.
I flip the switch in the kitchen. It only lights the pendants I’ve got hanging over the island. It’ll do for now. Millie wanted the lights under the cabinets too. Something dim for when she makes her tea at night.
But this house isn’t for her anymore.
