Page 29 of Bound By Words

The place was still furnished. Chase and Evan often stayed here when they needed to be in the city to meet with their editors or attend book signings. It held an empty quality, almost like a hotel. The only indicator it was someone’s residence was the wedding pictures of my brother and his wife on the wall instead of generic landscapes.

I knew it likely would be with my unplanned trip, but the refrigerator had only a few condiments in the door, a bottle of white wine, and a pitcher of filtered water inside.

I felt weird sleeping in the bed they shared—even if this wasn’t their primary residence—so I grabbed fresh sheets from the tiny hall closet, tucking them into the couch cushions. Finally, sitting down, I pulled up a food delivery app and started browsing the restaurants in the area.

The drive to their house in Connecticut was only a few hours, but I’d never driven it by myself. I didn’t want to risk getting lost in the rain, so I decided that maybe I’d spend a few nights in the condo before I drove down. It’d probably be a good idea to download all my projects to my laptop from the server in case the internet service was spotty at their farmhouse.

Chase had texted me Isobel’s contact information, but I didn’t want to disturb her. She was still supposed to be on maternity leave for a few more weeks and likely had better things to do than babysit Evan’s older sister while she had a not-quite-mid-life crisis.

Isobel often dealt with difficult male editors—her non-boyfriend included—but I knew I wouldn’t contact her. Part of me still ached when I thought of what my life might have been like by now, and seeing further reminders of what my future wasn’t going to hold wouldn’t help me get out of this funk. It’d just add a steaming addition to my already large enough pile of crap.

Kristine: You get on the road yet?

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, Kristine’s name flashing across the screen. I knew she had appointed herself my babysitter, but I didn’t want anyone’s pity.

Kelly: Nope. Got a hot date with Netflix. I’ll head down tomorrow.

It wasn’t like I had anywhere to be. I could spend another day hiding from the world. It was not that driving to the middle of the countryside wasn’t hiding from the world, but it involved putting on real pants. Pants were so overrated.

Kristine: You sure you don’t want to stay with Nana? She’s got plenty of room, and Piet is a fabulous cook.

While I appreciated the offer, I didn’t want to spend my exile playing the third wheel to an octogenarian and her silver fox boy toy.

Kelly: I’m good. I promise.

At least, I would be after I found another bottle of wine.

I groaned as the light filtered in the apartment windows the next morning. The second bottle of wine the delivery driver brought didn’t go down as smoothly as the first I found in the fridge. I should have stuck with only drinking white. I should’ve also stopped drinking, but I had the toxic habit of self-medicating with the cursed fermented devil grapes when I was stressed out, lonely, or horny… Maybe I needed to step away from wine for the rest of this forced sabbatical.

It was an unattractive habit, but no one was here to criticize me for my life choices right now. My parents didn’t even know I’d left Chicago. We only saw each other a few times a month, so I was hoping to have at least a week before I had to explain why my life was falling apart around me while I hid in my brother’s house.

I was beginning to see the appeal of Evan’s need for solitude after everything that happened with that slag, Simone. It’d just turned into his love nest with Chase, where they escaped to write their scandalous books that entertained my mother’s book club. Maybe I could claim squatters’ rights and refuse to leave their house. Once completed, moving into the new guest house sounded like an attainable new life goal for me. But first, I had to get there.

Evan’s Audi was parked in the underground garage attached to Chase’s building, looking like it’d never been driven. He’d probably kill me if he knew I had a travel mug of black coffee and a flaky croissant I’d obtained from the bakery down the street in his precious vehicle.

I was surprised that there weren’t any remnants of their trip up to the city left behind, but I was sure Evan had carefully cleaned out his baby before they’d caught a cab to the airport. He always was a little on the OCD side. A stark contrast to my loosely organized hot mess.

I almost felt sorry for Deacon having to sort through my unorthodox filing system in my absence, but then I thought about how he’d forced me on this break, and I didn’t feel sorry for him in the slightest. It wasn’t his fault, per se, but his policy ensured I had a mandatory lock-out period. It didn’t matter that I was innocent—until he’d obtained enough proof of that, I would be shut out. Fed enough scraps of work to keep me busy until they tugged me back in or sent me packing. Being in limbo sucked.

Luckily, I’d missed morning rush hour by the time I started driving out of the city, and soon, the skyscrapers and brick buildings were replaced with rolling fields dotted with puddles from the recent rain and lots and lots of nothing but nature…and cows.

Don’t get me wrong, I was sure that it’d be gorgeous come summer, but as rain clouds gathered on the horizon and the lingering wine headache from the day before made my temples throb, I had difficulty finding beauty in anything.

The drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour when I reached the turnoff that led deep into the wooded area where Evan had built his house. I didn’t know how he did it, Chase, either. I’d never survive this far outside of a big city.

It was so dark; the only lights were the car headlights and the nearly blinding floodlight on the front porch that clicked on when I parked in front of the house. I knew I should secure the car in the detached garage, but getting warm and passing out early were higher on my priority list.

Leaving my suitcase in the car, I ran through the rain, shielding my eyes from the onslaught. My hair was plastered to my head when I reached the front door and punched in the code on the lock with near-frozen fingers.

The inside was just as cold, the security system chirping at me as I pushed the door closed. Quickly typing in the code, the beeping stopped, and I toed off my wet shoes before I searched for the thermostat.

None of this 68-degree bullshit. I was turning the thermostat up to 72 until this place didn’t feel like an icebox.

Eyeing the fireplace, I crossed the room to peer into the basket beside it, but it was empty, with only a few bark scraps in the bottom of it. I suspected it was the real deal, not a gas model I could turn on with a switch like the one in my condo.

My phone chimed from my coat pocket, so I wiped my wet hands on my leggings before I pulled it out.

Chase: I got an alert from the security system. You get in alright? Local weather said there were some storms in the area.

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