Page 32 of His

Or is she just messing with us and trying to freak us out? Is this her manipulative way to toy with her husband and his mistress?

I saw the look in her eyes. Her focus was on me.

Valerie is not as sick as everyone believes. I’m certain of it.

Thankfully, Brittney didn’t see what was happening. It was close—too close.

Restless, I wander into the kitchen where Brittney is washing a coffee mug in the sink. Although she's not washing it, she’s scrubbing the same spot over and over as she’s staring out the window. Her body is rigid, her shoulders up to her ears. Whatever she’s looking at is upsetting her. I slide behind the doorway and watch her for a moment.

Her long brown hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. Half the hair has almost worked its way out of the scrunchie. Her purple scrubs are at least a size too big for her body. She’s shifting from foot to foot, obviously nervous about something.

What’s she looking at outside? What does she see?

It’s not surprising Brittney would be off-kilter after the commotion earlier, but it doesn’t appear that’s what’s upsetting her.

It’s whatever’s out the window.

I think of Valerie, rocking back and forth on the dirt, her eyes locked on some inanimate object that none of us could see.

Then, the image of Chloe’s name written on the shower wall flashes behind my eyes.

A knot forms in my stomach.

What have I gotten myself into?

Twenty-Two

Brittney

“Hello.”

I jump at the voice behind me, dropping the porcelain cup. It shatters in the kitchen sink.

Shit!

I spin around. Sabine is standing in the doorway, frowning.

Shitshitshit.

“I’m so sorry, uh,” I turn back to the sink and begin picking up the broken china shards .

Sabine joins me at the sink, studies me for a moment, then looks out the window, then back at me.

“Oh!” she exclaims, “You cut yourself. Stop. Brittney, let go of the cup?—”

I look down at my hands. They’re trembling. Sure enough, a line of blood is dripping down my thumb, mixing with the water as it spirals down the sink. I didn’t even feel it.

“Here, let me . . .” Sabine lifts my hand and turns off the water. She grabs a paper towel and wraps it around my hand while applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

I’m the nurse. I should be the one tending to my stupid little cut.

My cheeks heat. I’m humiliated.

It doesn’t help that Sabine is studying me so intensely that it feels like a laser beam on the side of my face. I can’t look at her. She’s so beautiful and perfect, and I’m—I’m what? A freaking mess. A basic, boring mess who breaks a cup and cuts my finger and doesn’t even notice it.

“You okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. Oh no,” my pulse skyrockets, “I broke one of his cups . . .” I pull out of her hold and toss the bloody paper towels in the wastebasket. When I begin to pick up the broken china, she stops me. “Don’t worry about it. He has a million priceless cups, trust me. I’ll tell him I did it.” She winks.

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