Page 64 of Reaching Hearts

Chapter Thirty-Five

Rebecca

Hands: tight on the wheel. Eyes: narrow slits locked on the third floor window. Mind: invidious machinations swirling ‘round.

People don’t know that at night when the lights are on inside, it’s like they’re on a T.V. screen for the whole outside world to see. And I watched. I watched as she opened the curtains. I watched as she talked to him over her shoulder, laughing. I stared up at her face as she drew a fucking heart on the glass and nearly made me scream and run into the hospital to drag her out by her hair.

What can I do to end this bullshit? What can I do? This can’t be happening. There must be a way to get rid of her. To make things go back to how they were.

Did Brendan mean what he said? Did he tell Tommy not to see me tonight? I would think he would have called. I pick up my phone and check it, but there are only calls I’m still avoiding from back home; Bree and Deanna asking about the banquet we’re planning, Louise wondering why I’ve not responded and what should she do next with the community garden project proposal, and the cat sitter wondering where I am.

With every cell in my being, I want to see Tommy for more reasons than to just piss Brendan off. I need his hands on me to let me know I’m not too old to be wanted. That I’m not a castaway left behind for the next generation of women. And I need to do something with this anger because it is eating me alive. I need to fuck it out. I need to fuck someone and I need to fuck someone, hard. And not just any someone. I need to fuck the one person Brendan wouldn’t want me to.

I don’t give a flying shit if it’s a bad idea. Or if Tommy’s too young for me, too. Or if Brendan will be furious. Those are all perfect reasons to fly into the hands of the devil, for all I care.

Putting my car into gear, I throw one more look up to the window, before pulling out and heading back to The Inn.

If Tommy doesn’t show up, I don’t know what I’ll do.