Page 30 of Bound By Words

Yeah…you could say that. Monsoon season had made its way to rural Connecticut.

Kelly: Yup. Safe and sound. Don’t tell Evan I changed his thermostat.

Chase: Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Don’t hesitate to text me if you need anything.

Kelly: Aren’t you supposed to be honeymooning?

Chase: We are. Your brother is passed out.

A winking emoji, a smirking emoji, and an eggplant came through next, and I cringed when I realized they had already been enjoying their honeymoon suite. Gross.

Kelly: TMI.

Chase: You asked.

Kelly: Go back to defiling my little brother now and spare me the details, please. Thank you for letting me stay at your house.

Chase: No problem. Get some rest. The freezer is fully stocked. Help yourself.

My prowess in the kitchen involved following the directions on the meal prep kits I had delivered each week or using an app to order takeout when I worked late. The latter of which was done more frequently than was probably healthy.

Since Evan’s location was so remote, I knew he’d expanded upon our mother’s basic cooking tutorials she’d forced on us before college and had become quite the home chef. It was part of why I knew Chase had readily agreed to move here. I had to admit I’d likely follow a man who could cook to the middle of nowhere if the food was good enough—and the dick. But that was my little brother, so I was going to pretend they were celibate spouses who never touched each other.

After pulling out a container full of the most flavorful pot roast I’d ever tasted—sorry, Mom—I peeked out the front windows to see if the rain had stopped.

It hadn’t.

Thankfully, my slightly hungover travel attire consisted of soft joggers and a long-sleeved tunic that almost reached my knees. Retrieving my pajamas could wait until the monsoon passed.

The past few times I’d visited Evan, I’d had trouble sleeping because it was so quiet. As I pulled the thick comforter over my shoulders in the guest bed, I didn’t have that problem—I passed out within moments of my head hitting the pillow.

Thwack

Two-day-long hangovers weren’t a thing, right?

I mean. I hadn’t been that drunk the other night when I rationalized that leaving a glass’s worth of wine in the bottle before leaving town was wasteful. It was my duty as a house guest to kill the bottle. I had to do it.

Thwack

Squinting at my Apple Watch, I realized it was dead, the screen black as I tapped the face. Right. Chargers were in my suitcase.

Luckily, I’d charged my phone on the drive down, and it still had half a charge.

Thwack

The screen read 10:00 a.m. So, at least I’d gotten some solid, not wine-induced sleep.

Thwack

Realizing the noise wasn’t coming from my overtaxed brain, I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed, pleased that the house seemed to have warmed up overnight.

Thwack

A quick peek out the windows overlooking the back of the house later, I failed to identify the source of the obnoxious cracking sound.

Thwack

As I passed the mirror on the dresser, I cringed as I took in the nest my hair had dried into after running through the rain and not brushing it before I fell asleep. Great. Now, I looked like a wild hermit lady hiding in the woods. At least I was embracing the part.

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