Page 27 of The Games We Play
“I said, Buster,” I corrected smoothly, smiling like I wasn’t a filthy liar. “The other one is a bad word, and we don’t say those kinds of words here.”
Winnie’s little brows pinched together in confusion. “But Mommy says that to Daddy all the time.”
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. Oh, this poor kid.
I ruffled my hand over her curls, then stood and held out my hand for her to take.
“Well, why don’t we go find Mommy and see if she’d like to tell you what that means?” I suggested.
Winnie slipped her small hand into mine, but instead of moving, she gazed up at me with those big brown eyes, blinking sweetly.
“Can we skip Miss Penny?” she asked.
Instantly, my heart swelled, an ache settling deep.
“Of course, sweetie. Did she tell you where she would be?” I asked, scanning the library in search of those familiar blonde curls somewhere near the adult section.
Winnie let out a dramatic sigh, her tiny shoulders rising and falling as she paused, clearly searching for the right word. I glanced down as she pursed her lips in determination.
“The e-e—aerobics,” she finally said, her voice laced with confidence despite her stumble.
My heart warmed at her effort, but I didn’t correct her. Instead, I grinned and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Lucky for her, I knew what she meant. We took off skipping as I guided her toward the erotica section in hopes of finding Mom.
The sun was setting,casting a golden glow over the quiet streets. The air was the perfect balance of warm and cool, and a gentle breeze brushed against my skin as I made my way home.
Tonight was mine—reserved for catching up on my favorite shows, drinking wine until my head felt light, and dancing around my apartment like no one was watching because no onewaswatching.
It was later than usual. I’d stayed behind at the library, finishing up the book cart I’d claimed earlier in the day. A school field trip had interrupted me that afternoon, pulling me into an impromptu lesson on how to properly use a search engine, which was desperately needed for their end-of-the-year final papers.
With summer fast approaching and school nearly out, my job was about to shift into high gear. During the school year, the library hummed quietly, busiest in the evenings when students filled the space for clubs, homework help, or just a quiet place to exist. But summer? Summer brought a different kind of energy. Days packed with eager kids and restless adults, bringing in a constant flow of visitors. I liked to fill it with programs, keeping the young minds engaged while giving the regulars their much-needed escape.
Letting out a slow breath, I tried to shake the day off. I refused to carry work home with me—especially not the stress, or the lingering frustration overMac. Just thinking about him made irritation stir low in my gut, threatening to ruin my night before it had even begun.
No. Not here.My home was my sanctuary, my peace. And I refused to let anything—or anyone—disrupt that.
The steady tap of my loafers echoed against the concrete as I dug through my bag for my keys. My fingers brushed against the cool metal just as I looked inside Sandy’s flower shop.
The lights were still on.
Curiosity piqued, I hesitated in front of the picture window. It was too late for Sandy to still be here. The sun nearly dipped below the horizon, and that went against her number one rule:always be home before dark.
Frowning, I stepped into the small vestibule and then pushed open the front door of Petal Pushers.
The chime above rang softly, the scent of fresh-cut flowers curling around me like an embrace.
But Sandy was nowhere to be found.
“Sandy?” I called out, leaving my bag by the door.
Silence.
My pulse ticked up as I moved deeper into the shop, my eyes flicking toward the back room.
Something felt… off.
Keeping my head on a swivel, I took a cautious step forward and then another until I knew the front of the store was empty.
