Page 17 of Our Long Days
“Thanks for that, kiddo,” I say flatly and shoot the little girl a menacing stare. She doesn’t flinch, sticking her tongue out at me.
“Florence, sweetheart, how’s the job hunt going?” Claire asks from across the table.
Flo’s forkful of chicken and gravy stops an inch from her mouth. “Umm, it’s going…”
“Aly said she saw you at the grocery store in Jacob’s Blu—Ow!” Booth’s words are cut off, and he throws daggers at Aly. “What was that for?”
Claire’s hopeful gaze bounces around the table. “The grocery store? But how will you get there? Maybe it’s time to get your license. I’m sure one of your brothers?—”
“Mom, don’t get excited,” Florence interrupts, lips flat. “They weren’t hiring.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. I love having you here.” Claire smiles reassuringly. “Something will come up.”
Patrick clears his throat and unhooks his arm from Jo’s shoulder. “Why don’t you take some hours at the restaurant? The job is right there.”
It’s clear from the faraway look in her eyes that she’s trying to come up with a response. Hidden by the tablecloth, she fidgets restlessly, pinching and tugging at the skin between her fingers. No one notices she’s close to unraveling.
I’m not about to gallop in on my horse, armor shining, but sitting here while discomfort radiates off her isn’t an option either.
“No business talk. We’re interested in the wedding.” I steer the conversation elsewhere. “You said a summer wedding?”
Excited replies echo around when Jo mentions a few dates in July. I nod, pretending to follow along as my hand slinks under the table, searching for Florence’s.
It’s the last thing I should be doing.
When my fingers brush hers, there’s no thinking. I simply weave them together. She freezes, gaze forward, but then after a beat her grip tightens, pulsing once. Twice.
Thank you,she says wordlessly.
I squeeze in return.I got you.
We remain that way until dinner ends and we migrate into the living room. She sits with the girls on the other side of the room. Every so often, our eyes meet. Every time, she gives me a smile I haven’t seen since she was splayed out on my living room floor, glowing under the firelight, filling my solitary home with laughter.
Don’t fucking go there. She’s not for you.
CHAPTER NINE
florence
MARCH
My Vans smackagainst the sidewalk, wet from the melting snow. It’s way too early to be up and out of bed, but I’m on my way to kill one bird with two pebbles, or however it goes.
Armed with charm and a polished resume, I march down Robin Road with my sights set on Just Brew It, Quinn’s quaint little bakery and coffee shop. The reason for my visit isn’t for a shot of caffeine, and my skin tightens simply thinking about the speech I’ve been rehearsing all week.
Under my breath, I hype myself up. “You might not have balls, but vaginas are—Oh! Morning, Mrs. Stewart.”
I meet the scrutinizing stare of a woman who makes the tensest of ass cheeks clench. “Felicity. What a surprise.”
She damn well knows that isn’t my name. I bite back my retort. “Yes, it’s me. Felicity Sadler.”
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” she questions, as if it’s any of her business. The uptight councilwoman is a thorn in everyone’s side. When I was six, she complained to my parents I was making too much noise. In my backyard.
A long sigh escapes me. “I’m actually on my way to visit my lover in jail. Whirlwind romance. You know how it is. Anyway, he only murdered those hikers because the voices in his head told him to do it.”
Disgusted, she struts in the opposite direction.
Nosy witch.
