Page 70 of Truly Forever
I settle my backside next to the lone stool at the breakfast bar. “You’re off all weekend?”
Face tight and arms folded, she nods.
“What’s the matter? Time off is a good thing, right?”
“Not for my bottom line, no.”
Oh, right. Hourly work and all. Yeah, that stinks. Me, I’ve got vacation days coming out both my ears. That’s what happens when a workaholic is employed by the government.
“I’m sorry.” While I tap the marble by my rear, my heart rate does atap-tapof its own. “What are your plans?”
She shrugs, looking pained. “I don’t know. I won’t get in your way, though. I’ll just…” Her finger wobbles sort of in the direction of her bedroom.
My bedroom.
Yeah, that thought is unhelpful in the extreme. Not five minutes in the front door and I’m already battling thoughts about Hollie that aren’t good for either one of us.
I rub a finger against my temple. They aren’t good…right? I’m the last problem she needs, just ask my son. Deann would say the same if she could.
Hollie starts backing away.
“Wait!” I flip my arm around the vacuous living space. “You’re not in the way, Hollie. I only wish I’d known you were going to be home so I’d brought more food for dinner.” The food I forgot on the front seat the second I saw her car and got jumped by my fears.
She peers behind me as if she’s wondering if I’m making things up. Then, she waves her hand. “You don’t have to cook for me.”
I’m not going to argue with her—but I am going to share my meal. It’s a good excuse not to overindulge. Everything I bought is healthy stuff, but I tend to eat a lot when I’m cranky.
Shocking I don’t weigh three hundred pounds.
I tell her I’ll be back in a minute, then get the groceries from the car and change into track pants and a t-shirt. She offers to help, but there isn’t much prep work with baked chicken and bagged salad.
The chicken is in a dish, the oven is preheating, and I’m wiping down the counter when it registers that she’s traversed the length of the living room enough times to count as pacing. Washing my hands and toweling off, I track her on another pass, her shoulders curled inward. When she notices me watching, she stops. Her attempt at a smile is pathetic.
“What’s up? Did you hear from the police today?” Did she get unsettling news? My bad for not asking right off.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Rough day at work?”
“Not really.”
Balling the towel onto the counter, I spread my arms and lean onto the island. “Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem.”
“That’s a lie.” Sorry, I like truth served straight.
Sorry, alright. Thebossthing pushes Hollie away every single time. Her lower lip quivers.
I dip my chin. “Sorry. Work and traffic. I haven’t decompressed yet.”Yet?“Please. Tell me what’s up.” I have an intense need to know.
“It isn’t important.”
“Your pacing says otherwise, so why don’t you let me be the judge.”
Her head shakes like she doesn’t quite get me, and then she slumps fully. “I’m missing Jacob’s game.”
This is about a football game? “But you knew you were going to miss it, right?”