Chapter 5 #2
The minute I learned where I was going, all the gossip I’d heard about Phoebe Lebonaire and her son came to mind.
I knew firsthand she was in the middle of what was clearly a messy divorce that screamed she came with baggage.
As much as I was attracted to her, an attraction that hit me on a level I wasn’t used to, I wasn’t in a place to have a relationship in my life.
I also didn’t want kids, so a woman with kids was also a no-go.
“Would you like some coffee?” She rounded the counterless kitchen island, picking up a freshly brewed pot of coffee from the back counter.
“Sure,” I answered. Without asking, I sat down and started poring over the notes Jerome made, pulling her inspection report and lining up the errors. I did a double take when I hit the issue that changed everything.
“Why the hell are you still here?” I got to my feet, my skin hot.
“What do you mean?” She looked at me in confusion, the coffee pot suspended.
“The issues here are structural. You’re letting your son live in a potential death trap,” I growled furiously.
What the hell kind of person was she? She had the proof her house could collapse, and she sent her kid back upstairs like it was nothing.
“You need to get your kid right now,” I all but shouted at her.
Another time. Another house. Another child. All flashed through my mind, turning my vision red.
She went pale and her hand holding the pot trembled. She hissed when some of the burning hot coffee spilled onto the back of the hand holding the cup on the counter. She dropped the coffee pot, and it shattered on the countertop. The liquid splashed onto her, forcing her to jump back.
I cursed, crossing the room. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her to the tap and was relieved to see the cold water was still working.
She tried to pull her hand away.
“You need to stop the burn from spreading.” I held her hand firmly. I had a good forty pounds of muscle on her; her hand wasn’t budging.
“I know that,” she whispered hoarsely, holding herself as far away from me as possible.
“You know that, but you don’t know to get out of a house whose support beam is rotted?” I was incredulous.
Twisted wood, the smell of blood, and a tiny hand holding a teddy filled my head, fueling my anger.
“Hey, Mom! Is everything okay?” Lachlan bounded down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the doorway. “Why is your hand under water?”
“I—I just burnt it. Go—go out to the car, Lachlan.” Her voice took on a quality to it that had my spine stiffening, even as she tried to pull her hand away from me again. “Go now, and call—”
“I have to get my backpack—”
“Go now, Faolán!” The urgency in her voice snapped me out of my haze. Looking at her, I saw the way her eyes bounced nervously between me and her son, the way she tried to shift her body to put herself between me and her son. I felt like I’d been kicked in the nuts.
At her tone, Lachlan didn’t hesitate and turned. The soft click of the front door closing was deafening, even over the sound of the running water.
“Please let go of me.”
Looking down at her, I saw her freckles standing out starkly against the pallor of her skin. Her fingers rubbed together in the way I’d noticed that first night. This time on both hands.
Instantly, I let her go and took several steps back. With her kid out of the house, some of the panic and fury inside me settled. I could see the fear lurking in her green eyes, dulling the sparkle I’d admired earlier. Fear I’d caused with my harsh words.
The second I was far enough away, she turned, putting the counter at her back. She pulled her hand from the water but didn’t turn it off, cradling it against her chest. The muscles of her neck rippled as she swallowed. She looked past me, and something insidious unfurled inside me.
“I didn’t know the house was dangerous.” Her voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it over the running water.
“I don’t know a lot ab—about the structure of houses.
Jerome told me it was fine as long as I didn’t use certain rooms.” Her eyes remained fixated beyond my shoulder, those fingers on her burned hand turning red as they moved.
“I wouldn’t have stayed here had I known. ”
Her words filtered through the remaining haze of anger, not quite obliterating the images that haunted me.
Fuck.
I felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.
Of course she didn’t. It wasn’t on the fucking paperwork, I realized. The immediate vacate order should have been there, but it wasn’t. All I’d seen were the structural vulnerabilities and the aftermath. I’d fucked this up so badly.
Adding to my stupidity was the fact we were still in the house. Furious with myself, I ran a hand down my face.
“Phoebe…” I gripped the back of my neck, my eyes lasered on the way her fingers rubbed together and the deep red shade that had developed.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. My gut cramped, as I watched her fingers rub faster.
“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I was—Look, how about we go outside and I can explain? ”
The need to grab her and take her out of here beat at me. Now instead of a small hand holding a teddy bear, I saw delicate fingers that were red and raw.
Her lips pressed together, her face ashen, and I felt a sticky sweat break out on my brow. Fucking hell. “Look, how about I just gather these papers, and I’ll meet you outside?” I moved to the table, which was even further away from the doorway.
“Uh—okay.” She all but ran from the room, grabbing her cell phone that had been on the counter along the way. Probably to call the police, not that I blamed her.
Staring down at the papers, all I could see were the words. Joists. Misalignment. Wood rot. Support beam three. The other words blurred until I couldn’t see them. It wasn’t until my phone buzzed in the holster on my belt that I looked away.
Pulling it out, I saw it was Dad.
Running a hand down my face, I answered, moving to shut off the water. “Dad, I fucked up.”
“I’m listening.”