Page 11 of Delicate Escape

I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew I had to give Sutton something, or she’d never let this go. And I desperately needed her to set it down. “I just can’t.” I let my eyes bore into hers, imploring. “It’s not in the cards for me.”

Because even if a man were the best person on the planet, my mind would play tricks on me. Wonder when he’d turn. I’d constantly be looking for the ulterior motive beneath the kindness. And always asking how he might eventually destroy me.

That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. And it wasn’t something I wanted to live through either. Not again.

Sutton’s expression fell, but she reached out and squeezed my hand. “Okay. But I’m always here. Whatever you need.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Can you take the counter? I think my cake has cooled enough for me to frost.”

“Of course.” Guilt surged at the rush of relief I felt at her distance. But I needed some time to shore up my defenses. They had gotten perilously thin.

As Sutton disappeared into the kitchen, she and Walter started singing along to an old Tim McGraw ballad. I wiped down the counters and the bakery case, scouring every speck and spot and trying to think about anything but the fact that I was lonely. There was no way for menotto be when no one in Sparrow Falls knew who I truly was.

The sound of footsteps had me straightening and tossing the rag into the sink. I forced a smile, greeting the regular. “Morning, Raina.”

She gave me the same hesitant smile she always did, her light brown hair sweeping her face as if shielding her from the world. “Morning.”

“Nutella muffin and an Earl Grey tea?” I asked.

Raina nodded, her hair shifting to reveal more of her hazel eyes. Her makeup was subdued, but she clearly had an expert hand in applying it. Still, I could see the hint of a bruise beneath the concealer, right across her cheekbone.

A burn lit in my throat. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen something like this: a bruise on her arm peeking out from under her sleeve, a scattering of discoloration on her wrist as she paid. But I’d never seen anything on her face until today.

Raina handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I hit buttons on the cash register. A buzz flared in my ears, and my mind raced. Maybe I was seeing zebras when the truth was horses.

I didn’t know the first thing about Raina, other than the fact that she was about my age, quiet, and ordered the same thing every day. Maybe she was into kickboxing or had taken a softball to the cheek. Or…it could be something darker.

Possibilities swirled as I picked up a muffin with the tongs and slipped it into a bag. It only took a matter of seconds to prepare her tea after that. Turning to face her, I pasted a bright expression on my face. “Here you go.”

Raina answered with that same tentative smile. “Thank you.”

I tried to read beneath her words and see if there was some silent cry for help, but I couldn’t read anything as she took her breakfast and headed for the door. There was nothing but the calm, quiet exterior I saw most mornings.

But I knew what it was like to paint a picture for the outside world that was so opposite of what you actually felt. I’d been so good at it that I sometimes believed the lies. Until it all came crashing down.

Only Brendan’s weapons hadn’t been fists. They’d been words and manipulations. He’d left no bruises. And the scars burned into me weren’t anything the eye could see.

Which only made me feel crazy, just like he’d said I was.

And it was all a reminder of why I needed to stay far away from Shep Colson—or any man like him. Because if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. And even if it wasn’t, I’d be too scared to reach for it anyway.

4

SHEP

The house wasa complete gut job. But that only had the phantom buzz of energy lighting beneath my skin. My fingers itched to put pencil to paper and begin sketching out what could be.

That was always the high. Transforming something that people saw as trash into treasure. And while I loved using every form of tech imaginable to bring that to fruition, I always had to start with old-school pencil and paper.

Something about the way the graphite scratched across the page opened my mind to possibilities. And this place was nothing but. It was a bigger undertaking than anything I’d done for myself by a factor of ten. But that only heightened the buzz.

I stared up at the enormous farmhouse that must date back to the 1920s, at least, close to when this part of the state was settled. The siding was a weather-beaten gray that had probably once been white. It needed a new roof, for sure. But the bones? They were steady.

I wanted to knock out half a dozen walls. Put in windows. Butthat would all come with time—that and more than a little sweat equity.

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