Page 44 of The Woman in the Garage

“I’m using fabric softener to take down the old wallpaper,” I explained, waving over toward my progress.

I had to admit, my many sleepless nights were letting me get more projects done than I’d expected. Considering all the fancy new stuff I had to stress about, I had a feeling that there would be a lot of progress on the house in my near future.

“You know, I had a hard time picturing a pink couch in a living room,” Santo said, nodding at the sofa in question. “But it works a lot better than I thought it could.”

“It will work even more when the walls, drapes, and the rest of the furniture are redone. Well, if that happens,” I said, putting my purse on one of the many tables in the main living space.

“Why if?” he asked, turning back, watching me with curious eyes.

“Oh, um, well, I’m still not sure I am going to be staying,” I admitted, busying myself with the coffee pot, wanting something to do, and figuring it was the appropriate thing to offer a guest. Unless he had a thing for the cheap beer my uncle kept in the fridge.

“Really?” Santo asked, moving over toward the G-shaped kitchen full of impressively ugly puke-green countertops, a floral backsplash, and yellow-hued cabinetry.

At least the cabinets were old enough to be real wood. A little sand and a better stain, and they would be lovely. Definitely a selling point.

“Why’s that?” he added, leaning over the counter from the living room side, watching me with those warm eyes. “The assholes at work giving you shit?”

“No. Well, yes. But that’s not really the only reason. I think I just… jumped without really giving it any thought.”

“And now you’re doing a lot of thinking?”

“Something like that.” He had no idea. And I couldn’t exactly tell him about it, could I? “I’m just… very alone here,” I told him, feeling those words like a crack in my heart. “It’s been a hard transition. And on top of that… all of this,” I said, gesturing vaguely.

“And getting knocked on your ass and then stolen from can’t be helping your anxiety about a new place.”

“Yeah, those things are definitely a factor.” And, you know, the possible fifty totes full of drugs stashed at many different locations throughout the state. A possible drug bust. A prison sentence. No big deal. Not nightmare fuel or anything.

“If it helps at all, this area of Navesink Bank is safe. If you’re feeling weird about living alone.”

I hadn’t been. It had actually been one of the things I’d been excited about. No noisy neighbors. No intrusive roommates. Just me.

But now that he brought it up, I had a shiny new thing to worry about.

Because not only were those units full of drugs, someoneknew that. Someone had taken the whole stash from one of them.

If they happened to know who I was, would they, I don’t know, come to my house? Demand access to the other units? Hurt me?

“Hey, you alright?” Santo asked, his voice softer than usual.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, taking a deep breath, but it made my chest shake.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” he said, coming fully into the kitchen, nearly tripping over some peeled-back linoleum, but it didn’t slow him down.

I was in his arms within a moment, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, his strong arms wrapping me up tight. Just like I’d been longing for.

I expected the way I melted into him, how my arms went desperately around him. I hadn’t anticipated the way my eyes would flood with tears.

It just felt so good to be seen, held, understood. Even though he couldn’t actually understand when there was so much I couldn’t tell him.

“There you go,” he said, feeling the tension leaving my body. His hands slid up and down my back. It was meant to be comforting, but it wasn’t long before his chaste touch was making little sparks of desire course across my skin.

Santo cleared his throat a bit. “If you just want a friend and comfort, we’re going to need to let go now.”

Did I want friendship and comfort?

Yes.

More than almost anything else.

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