Page 35 of Sinister Secrets

I check the time on my phone. “He’s probably finished with the animals and left by now.”

“Without washing up for work first?”

A bolt of irritation zaps through me that she doesn’t realize she didn’t leave enough time for both Jake and I to get ready. I bite the inside of my cheek, reminding myself that this woman needs my kindness before responding. “He’s going to shower at his condo this morning.”

“His condo? I thought he lived here.”

“He does.”

“But he still has a place of his own?” She frowns, her lower lip jutting out. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I guess if it were me, I might feel like it meant he had one foot out the door.” She huffs a small laugh. “Then again, I’m the last person anyone should be taking relationship advice from. If you’re cool with it and it works for you guys, that’s all that matters.”

I think of my own apartment, but it’s not mine anymore, is it? I gave it up. Went all in on my new life. Even most of my old belongings are no longer mine now but in charity storefronts, the little I kept still in boxes lining the hallway with no idea when I’ll have the time to dig through them and properly unpack.

“It’s right down the street from where he works, so it comes in handy,” I tell her.

She nods, giving me a timid smile. “Is it too late for this morning’s lesson?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“Then I’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for work.” She trudges toward the door like a kid being sent to timeout. At the threshold, she pauses and looks at me over her shoulder, “I’m still sorry.”

I do my best to force a smile as I wave her on. Today was going to be difficult enough already without starting it off on the wrong foot. And stepping beneath the spray of lukewarm water doesn’t improve my mood any.

CHAPTER 20

A squirrel eyes me through the windshield from the thick base of an oak. Its head lifts on a stretched neck, the small whiskers on its cheeks wiggling as its nose twitches, scenting the air. It takes a cautious step forward, onto the patchy grass, then another before dipping its tiny hands into the dirt.

I watch, trying to let the curiosity of what it’s after distract me from my current, much darker thoughts. Like why someone left Gordon Massey’s body floating in my pond. Or how much of a mistake I might have made opening my home to someone I don’t know.

Leaning my head against the hard glass of the driver’s side window, I sigh heavily. I can’t do this. There’s no use dissecting the decision now. What’s done is done.

Besides… this is what Butch would want. My grandfather always believed the Sanctuary should be a safe place for all creatures, including the human kind, and there’s no denying that Chelsea could use some help.

The poor woman needs someone in her corner. That was a serious bruise she showed me on her shoulder last night. It would have taken a great deal of force to inflict—enough to have caused a serious injury if whatever was used to make it had struck her head instead of her torso. Who knows what other signs of abuse her body bears?

I’ve been trapped in a toxic relationship I was desperate to escape before. I know what it’s like to feel helpless. Scared. Confused. How impossible escape can seem, which is probably why it takes an average of seven attempts to leave an abusive relationship—and that’s not counting those who lose their lives before they’re successful.

I have the chance to keep Chelsea from becoming a statistic, and I intend to make the most of it. A part of me even kind of hopes that her abuser dares to come and try to take her back. Just give me five minutes to give them a taste of what it’s like to be on the receiving end…

The squirrel’s head jerks toward me as if it can hear my thoughts. Its eyes widen in fear the second before it takes off, racing back up the tree like it’s being stalked by a predator.

Straightening in my seat I peer after it, my attention quickly diverted as a silver sedan turns into the lot where I’m parked outside of the real estate office where Gordon worked. Finally. I give the petite brunette who exits the vehicle time to unlock the door and get inside before I climb out of my own car and follow her.

She looks up, startled, as I push the front door open, one hand flying to her chest, the other still wrapped around the handle of the coffee carafe she was filling at the water cooler in the corner.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” She glances around as if checking to see if anyone else is in the room. “None of the agents are here yet. Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” I say with what I hope is a friendly smile.

“Was there someone you were working with?”

“No, I—”

“Then I’ll check who’s up next in the rotation and ask them to come assist you. I’m just the receptionist…”