The Effing List - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,127

with a mesmerizing rhythm.

Suddenly, a vagrant darted out of the bushes to block her way. “I need cash, lady. Gimme cash.”

He’d shattered her brief period of tranquility—and rage engulfed her in a wave of heat. “Seriously?” Her voice rose to a shout. “Get out of my way, or I’ll decimate you.”

“Jesus, lady.” He backed away so hurriedly he fell on his ass.

And she ran on.

She’d won.

That battle.

But she was in another fight—a war with her ex-husband she hadn’t even realized was happening.

The thought eroded her mood until, by the time she reached her apartment, she was fighting back tears—and fury. Again.

How could Dillon have spoken to her like that? How could Hailey have threatened to keep her from her grandson?

They were her children, who she loved with all her heart. She’d carried them, birthed them, nursed them. She’d fought for them and taught them. Cried when Hailey had first said, “Mama.” Stayed up all night whenever one of them was ill. Read stories to them every night, helping them sound out the words so they’d been able to read even before kindergarten.

And now…

The pain was overwhelming as if each rib in her chest had cracked under the blow. She cried in the shower—and then pounded her fist on the wall because she’d raised them better than this.

Wet hair in tangles, dressed in cut-offs and a loose T-shirt, she folded down in her tiny meditation corner. The scent of frankincense drifted through the air. A gull cried from outside as thunder growled in the distance. The scent of moist air from rain over the Gulf of Mexico swept in from the open balcony door.

She set her open hands on her thighs and pulled in a slow, deep breath. If nothing else, her life had taught her how to handle pain. How to reach tranquility so reasonable solutions could be found.

Emptying her mind, she let the world fade away.

That evening, she was ready to think calmly about the mess. It would take a lot of thought to sort out this tangle. There were too many players involved. Too much hurt and anger.

She mustn’t react without careful consideration.

Hoping to get more information, she’d tried to call Hailey. Her daughter didn’t answer. Texts received no response.

Frustrated anger made her want to do something equally childish, like texting, “Never call me again. I have no children.”

Although momentarily gratifying, a final break wasn’t the solution she wanted.

Now, what was she going to do?

A light tap on the door lifted her hopes. Hailey? Dillon? Finn?

Without checking the peephole, she yanked open the door—and her spirits fell.

Linda and Olivia stood together.

Linda’s expression held sympathy. “I’m sure you were hoping to see repentant children, but you’re stuck with us. May we come in?”

“I’m sorry. Of course.” Valerie motioned them in. “You mentioned my children. How did…”

Linda moved her shoulders. “Ghost sent me.”

Simply hearing his name warmed her. “I see.”

“And Z sent Olivia.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. “Master Z?”

“It seems he saw you leaving Ghost’s office and asked what happened,” Linda said.

“Of course he asked. The man’s a snoopy shrink as well as a Dom.” Olivia moved into the kitchen. “My mum believes hot tea will improve any disaster. May I make us some?”

Valerie blinked. “Ah…certainly. There’s a selection in the corner.” The Domme looked determined—and tea would be good, since it appeared they planned to stay awhile.

After setting a large tote bag on the counter, Olivia filled Valerie’s electric tea kettle with water from the dispenser and set it to boil. She took a moment to examine the tea collection, then nodded in satisfaction. “We have the same tastes, don’t we?”

Since Olivia appeared comfortable brewing tea, Valerie went to the living room and picked her notepad and cardigan off the sofa. She gestured to Linda. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Linda sat down. “So, I know you’d mentioned your children are adults. How old are they?”

“Dillon is twenty-four and single. Hailey is twenty-five, married, and my grandson recently turned two.” Valerie felt as if a boulder was sitting on her ribcage. “If Ghost talked to you, then you know my children said if I don’t return to Barry, I’ll never see them again.”

A snort came from the kitchen. “Our so-called loved ones know where to jab in the knife, don’t they?”

Linda sighed. “They do. The trick is to be smart enough to reach them before they cause too much damage. To us and themselves.”

Too late. The damage is done.

Linda pointed to a chair. “Sit, before you collapse.”

“How old are your children, Linda?”

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