Catching Sparks (Cherry Peak Book 2)

By Friday,I’ve grown calluses on my palms from holding a broom and mop. Sweeping a muggy shop all day every day may be worse than having my skin burn from flying pieces of hay. Brody knows that’s exactly how I’m feeling, I’m sure of it. That’s the only reason why he’s forcing me to continue doing such minuscule, pointless tasks.

It’s a miracle that I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut about how unimpressed I am with this arrangement. Maybe I just know that he’s waiting for it and that if I erupt the way he expects me to, there’s something far worse waiting for me outside this shop.

Johnny, the kid with the overly stimulating personality, is lingering in the shop this afternoon, bumbling on about joining Brody and his friends at Peakside tonight. The supposed bar is the only one in Cherry Peak, which is not so surprising. It’s more shocking that they have a bar to begin with, considering their lack of most other places I would consider a necessity. A car wash, for example.

The pile of dust and dirt I’ve swept before me blows half across the shop when one of the open sliding doors bangs and rattles and begins lowering to the ground. My eye twitches at the mess, my grip on the handle of the broom turning punishing.