“I’m good. Thank you.”
Once I’m alone in the office, I take a seat at my desk and grab the three picture frames containing a false sense of happiness between Keegan and me. I thought if I put up photos of happy moments, the positive vibes would eventually catch up, but that never came to be. I debate whether I should toss the photos away or bury them in a drawer.
The frames are too lovely to throw away.
I rip the photos out of the three frames, tear them up and toss them in the trash.
The frames can stay. I’ll just keep those until I have something else to place inside.
“How do you like that, Keegan? I’m already removing you from my life,” I mutter.
Chapter Seven
Chance
Workingbeneath the unrelenting sun after a night of poor sleep is not an ideal way to finish work for the week. I thought I was good last night after Didi’s sudden drop-in. Sometimes I feel remorseful for never showing her an inch more of courtesy or an invitation to come inside, but she’s not for me, and I’m sure not for her. Though I do wonder why she is so persistent in forming a friendship or whatever it is she’s after with me.
Sometimes my guilt keeps me awake as I often think too profoundly about situations I could have handled differently, but last night’s remorse was different.
The woman in the bar. I had visions of her jumping off the bridge with no one around to stop her. I know I can’t save everyone, but I feel like I end up in certain situations for reasons I may never understand. I could have been the one to prevent her from going off the deep end. Plus, I don’t know a thing about her. I just can’t forget about the look I saw in her eyes. If something happened, Luke would have heard something. I’ll send him a quick text before heading back to Mrs. Dunn’s house.
Me: Did you hear anything about that crazy chick from last night?
Luke isn’t quick at responding to messages, so I toss my phone into the cup holder and pull onto the street. As expected, I’m about halfway to Mrs. Dunn’s house when I hear the phone vibrate.
I pull over to the side of the road and grab my phone to read his response.
Luke: Nah. Should I have heard something? Did something happen after you followed her out?
I pull back onto the road, not sure how much I want to tell him. I need a few minutes to think. My truck bounces around as I roll onto Mrs. Dunn’s torn up driveway. She told me her driveway is the next repair she will invest in, which is the right decision since her tires will end up on that list of hers too.
With the truck in park, I grab my phone again and tap out a reply to Luke.
Me: I followed her for a few to make sure she wasn’t getting into a car, but she spotted me down by the lake and scared me off with less than a full breath.
Luke’s response is almost immediate this time.
Luke: Dude, why would you follow any woman to the lake? You were asking for trouble.
He’s right. But in my defense, I was acting as a concerned citizen.
The second I spot Mrs. Dunn’s figure in the window of her front door, I regret not stopping for a large coffee this morning. I’m not the type who needs caffeine to get a kick start, but I swear I see a glare glimmering in her eyes from here.
The woman is knocking on my window before I step out of the truck.
“Mr. Miller,” she scolds.
I reach for the door handle, and she taps her fist against the glass again.
“Yes, Mrs. Dunn,” I respond while stepping out of my truck. I wonder if there is a Mr. Dunn, and if so, what he thinks of Mrs. Dunn’s demands.
“The packages arrived—the shingles,” she says, pointing toward her garage door where there is a pile of boxes stacked.
“Oh, good. I’m glad the materials are here.”
“Well, I’m not happy they’re here,” she retorts, huffing as she sweeps her white feathery bangs away from her forehead.
“Why is that, Mrs. Dunn?” I ask, trying to sound caring and concerned. I even give her a little space as I make my way back to the truck's tailgate for my toolbox.
