Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Shelby
Groaning, I look from left to right. Where do I even start? It’s not just my life I’m packing up.
When she moved, my stepmother left most of my father’s personal possessions for me, saying that the memories of him were enough. Her packed car had held only one box of his items.
At the time, I’d been grateful. It had felt like he was still here. Now, his things are just another stark reminder of how alone I am.
I rub at the ache in my chest.
A harsh breath puffs out my cheeks. Decision made. Dad’s stuff stays where it is, at least for one more night.
I glare at the small pile of unopened bills on the hall table and the envelope next to them. I still haven’t looked at what Doc paid me. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to catch up on one of the bills.
It will.
I bite my lip and force myself to turn away. I may not know the man as well as I should, given our new arrangement, but I know him well enough to know that whatever is inside that envelope is far too generous.
His earlier words echo in my head. “I take care of what’s mine.”
My core heats. Get a grip, Shelby! The man meant that you’re his employee.
I jump, grasp the cord hanging from the ceiling, and pull, causing the loft hatch to lower. Grasping the other cord that falls, I pull that to release the ladder. As my feet land on the first step, I feel a small twinge between my legs, one that takes my breath away.
Here I am, fantasizing about my neighbor, while still sore from lying with another man just last night.
Guilt floods me.
Leonard doesn’t deserve that. He’s a good man. Generous and loving.
No. This arrangement is strictly business, at least until my mystery man looses interest. My earlier guilt is replaced with sorrow.
I don’t want it to end. Just the sneaking around, lying, never knowing when he’ll come for me. Tilting my head back, I groan.
God, I have issues.
My mother’s things have sat where they are for as long as I can remember. Next to the beam, near the wall connecting to Doc’s house.
Some things I am willing to get rid of, but my mother’s items are not one of them. They come with me. As I get closer, more boxes appear.
Maybe not all of them.
I make a mental note to ask Kaleb if there’s any storage room at the trucking yard that I can rent next time I see him. If not, he has a garage, and the man owes me after that breakfast fiasco.
I really should check in with Sam. I’m a terrible friend.
But she hasn’t called me either, which usually means they made up.
The image of them sitting across from me in the diner calms my worry.
The way Kaleb had looked at my best friend, the way his fingers had played with her hair—something tells me she’d prefer me not to call for a while.
I’ll give her a few more days.
Chuckling, I sit next to the boxes. Carrying these down counts as packing five boxes, right? Pointing, I count quickly. Twelve. That definitely counts in my book . . . but not in Leo’s.
I check the time on my watch. It’s getting late. Pulling out a photo album, I shuffle along the floorboard. After a quick flip through this, I’ll take half the boxes down before packing up my room.
If I get up early enough, maybe I can take Riley to school. I missed her today. I missed him too.
Leaning back heavily, I open the leather-bound book in my lap. A startled squeak rips out of my throat when the wall behind me shifts.
Letting out a relieved giggle, I place a hand over my pounding heart.
Fuck!
I give a breathy laugh and turn.
My relieved smile fades quickly. Shit, I definitely don’t have the money to be breaking things.
Cringing, I touch the askew wall panel. The wood wobbles under my palm. Frowning, I try to peer into the crack, but the pitch-blackness gives nothing away. The light filtering in from my hallway is not bright enough to illuminate that far in.
Grabbing my phone out of my jeans pocket, I turn on the flashlight and aim it into the gap. Boxes line the wall, much like the ones I’m sitting next to.
As I push the panel more, something clicks in my head. The panel moves easily with one good push, like it’s used to it. Nothing squeaks, and nothing catches. It just opens.
My stomach knots.
Dread settles in every part of my body. My knees feel like they’re weighted with stone as I crawl through the opening. My body is stiff as I sit back on my heels. My heart squeezes.
I’m not in my house anymore.
I blink quickly, but my vision swims.
I’m not in my house anymore.
Feeling around the floorboards, I search for my fallen phone.
I’m not in my house anymore.
Shining the light around myself, I see a dust void, a path that’s been walked often and recently.
I’m not in my house anymore.
Pushing to my feet, I trace the steps to the attic hatch. It has a latch similar to mine that can be opened from either side.
I’m not in my house anymore.
Releasing the latch, I move around to take the first step down.
I’m not in my house anymore.
The hallway is empty. The sounds of a child’s television show drift out of Riley’s closed bedroom door.
I’m not in my house anymore.
Someone moves around the kitchen, and the fragrance of what they’re cooking reminds me that I skipped lunch and dinner. I’d been too guilty about my unknown man entering Doc’s house last night to eat.
I’m not in my house anymore.
My feet feel like they’re lined with lead. Every step I take is heavy. Something to my left catches my eye, and I turn. Physical pain pierces my heart.
I’m not in my house anymore.
A family photo. One I’ve walked past dozens of times, but I’ve never been this close. Leaning in, I blink to clear my watery vision. My fingers find the necklace under my T-shirt the same time my eyes find it in the photo.
I’m not in my house anymore.
It’s his mother’s. I’m wearing his mother’s locket.
The final piece of the puzzle falls, right there for me to see. How did I miss this?
I’m not falling in love with two men.
There’s only one.
I’m so fucking stupid.