Page 8 of All Our Secrets

“Forty pieces,” I spat out, running my fingers through my hair. “Where did fucking forty pieces of plywood disappear to?”

My part-timer, little Timmy, looked down at his feet.

Devin yanked his ball cap off and glared. “I’ve got it situated. What are you doing here today?”

“I took two days off, and you’re running my shop into the shitter,” I snatched the screws next to the pipes and held them out for my workers to see. “What is a box of screws doing in aisle two?”

“Someone must have left them there,” Devin said, not bothered by my rant.

Devin and I had grown up together, and he was my closest friend now that Theodore was gone. Like all the people in my life, he took my anger with ease, which grated on my nerves.

Timmy took the screws from my hand and dashed around the shelves.

Devin sighed, placed his hat back on, and said, “I like little Timmy. Can you not scare this one into quitting?”

“The plywood, Devin,” I muttered.

“It was sent to Frankie’s, but don’t worry, I’ve already called. They’re sending more our way. Free of charge.”

“What the fuck? It’s not free when I’ve already paid for it. Jesus, I need that shit now.”

Devin tossed his hands up. “Relax. Maybe you should call Becky. How long has it been since you two broke up? Over a year? How about you loosen up? A woman—any woman will do you good.”

My chest expanded as I sucked in a breath, trying to reel in the fury pumping through my bloodstream. “How about you worry about that wife of yours instead? Going to be awfully hard to take care of her when I fire your ass.”

Devin shrugged. “I’ve heard that before. Oh, and the wife called a couple minutes ago. Said Peyton was at the grocery store, and that case of water she lifted into her cart lookedawfullyheavy.”

“Goddamn it,” I swore and took off toward the exit.

Devin chuckled, and my neck prickled. I really wanted to turn around and rearrange his ugly face. But fucking Peyton. She knew she was supposed to call someone from FCR for help.

Insufferable woman never listened.

∞∞∞

My shop was in town, so I made it to Save-A-Lot in two minutes and parked my pickup beside her white Tahoe. As I got out, I spotted the tag in the front of her vehicle.Johnson, in bright pink cursive, blared at me, and I gritted my teeth.Not today, Satan.I’d been good the last few days and hadn’t dwelled on the past. Too much.

The devil on my shoulder had taken over too much over the last few years. The devil on my shoulder being my mind and probably, most importantly, my feelings for the widow of my dead best friend.

The past was supposed to fade in time. Things that felt like razor blades cutting through the heart were supposed to become nothing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for me. Every year since I lost Peyton was a new one spent around her. A new memory of watching her fall in love with someone else, another hundredth day seeing her smile and laugh for Theodore. And now I was watching my sun mourn a man I missed too.

Before I walked in, Peyton strode out of the building, pushing a shopping cart. Her brunette hair was draped over her left shoulder in a long braid. No makeup and a yellow sundress. Her waddle was more pronounced as she neared the end of her pregnancy. She gripped her lower back midstride and sighed, closing her eyes slightly, then frowned.She’s exhausted.

Her cart started to veer left, so Peyton placed both hands on it again to steady it. When she raised her head, our gazes locked, and she rolled her eyes so far back in her head, I wondered if they might get stuck. I wasn’t close enough to hear her groan, but I knew the sound by heart. She’d done it around me plenty in the last eight months.

A young man wearing a Save-A-Lot nametag ran out of the store. Smiling, he came up behind Peyton and took the shopping cart from her. I walked faster when she beamed.

“Thank you—” Peyton grasped her belly and huffed at me when I neared. “Sarah can’t keep her mouth shut, can she?”

I kept moving, with every intention of taking control of that shopping cart. “You’re supposed to call when you need something.”

“I’m pregnant, Silas, not bedridden. I’ve gotten along fine all these months, haven’t I?”

“You didn’t waddle or trip as much in the beginning,” I pointed out. Peyton had become accident prone since her pregnancy. I might not have been around her that much, but what the other FCR wives said about her mishaps had us all agreeing she needed help.

Her eyes bulged as she gawked. “Unbelievable,”

Instead of telling the young worker what I planned to do, I stepped over and took the cart from him. His eyes went back and forth between us. “I don’t mind helping you load things up…”

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