Page 17 of Guarding Over You
“Mom, I need to go potty,” Gracie said.
Her daughter was clutching herself and crossing her legs. She shook her head. “You always wait like that.”
“Go inside,” he said. “I’m sure it’s the same layout as yours. Bathroom off the kitchen.”
She didn’t want to do that, but she didn’t want her daughter to have an accident either.
“You don’t mind?”
“Mom!” That was the crazy urgency pee voice.
“Go,” he said, opening the French door for her.
She dashed in with Gracie and pulled the door to the half bath wide for her daughter to go in and then shut it.
As much as she hated to look around his place, she couldn’t help herself.
Yep, the layout was exactly the same. One big room, the kitchen in the back, a big island looking into the living room with a table in between.
Though the space was the same, the decor and colors weren’t. His walls were white, some black and white photos on them, his floors were gray hardwood, his kitchen had black cabinets, with black granite that had white swirled in to go with the white subway tile backsplash.
He lifted his eyebrow at her. “What?” she asked.
“Say it. It’s like living in a fifties show.”
She pursed her lips. It hadn’t been what she was thinking, but now that he’d said it, it was true. Black, white, and gray. That was it. Nothing else was here.
“Let me guess, it’s easy?”
He pointed and laughed. “You got it. Nothing clashes and everything matches.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.” Her daughter was still peeing. Good lord, it was surprising there hadn’t been an accident if she’d held it that long.
When the toilet finally flushed, then the water turned on, Blaze put his empty dish in the dishwasher. She hated she had interrupted his dinner, but it looked as if he was finished when she crossed over. Maybe even putting the last bite in his mouth.
She supposed he got home late, maybe right before she came over.
“Thank you,” Gracie said when the door opened.
“No problem,” he said.
“Sorry we interrupted your night.”
“Not much to interrupt. This is about all the excitement I get.”
“That’s sad. But after the last year I had, maybe I’d take that with bells on.”
She wasn’t sure why she had volunteered that. Then she told herself it didn’t matter. He had already witnessed her giving her ex shit in the parking lot. It wasn’t like he couldn’t piece things together.
Hadn’t he already approached her earlier today to see if she was fine, then offered he was home if she ever needed anything.
Too many times in her life no one stepped in to help.
Which made her job even more depressing because she got to witness firsthand what victims went through and she’d never thought of herself as one prior.
She still didn’t. What she’d tried to do was help and stayed on longer than she should have.
Her fault, her guilt, and the remorse she had to carry when she looked at her daughter being shy when she never used to be.
