backward now. “Thank you for coming tonight. This was really—” She bumped into a waiter.
Finally, Bree spun toward the exit and escaped.
A breeze rolled down Main Street and lifted her hair, and she took what felt like the first breath in two minutes. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket, but she turned it off. And began to walk.
Chapter 16
Chip
Chip sat across from her parents through the meal, each of them mumbling a polite yet awkward word of sympathy about Bree’s sudden sickness, then proceeding to talk ten minutes longer than Chip would have thought possible about the type of barbecue sauce they preferred on their meat. When that topic ran out of steam they turned to tools, and for the rest of the meal Chip and Dan went through every tool in Dan’s shed, down to the Japanese ryoba saw.
The three of them did everything in their power to pretend the situation did not exist, but when they walked back to Mr. and Mrs. Leake’s car, Bree’s mother crouched down and tucked herself into the passenger seat.
“Here,” Dan said, pressing his business card into Chip’s hand. “This is my number. It’s always good to share your family’s emergency contacts with neighbors.”
Wow. They really were worried about her.
“Of course,” Chip said, putting it into his pocket and reciprocating with his own. “In case you ever need to reach Bree and are having trouble.”
A smile slipped up Dan’s face. “Or I need some more dog tips.”
Chip smiled back. “Sure. Or dog tips.”
A few minutes later, Chip pulled into the cul-de-sac and then his driveway. As he turned the engine off, he saw that Bree’s place was completely dark. The porch was lightless, and even Evie’s car was gone, leaving only a shadowy spot of driveway in its place.
He unlocked his door quietly. Moved toward the kitchen.
It was eight o’clock, but his hands found themselves digging spoonfuls from the coffee bag. Pouring water into the coffeemaker. From the kitchen window he could see the glow from the lamp in her bedroom.
Later, in the darkness of his bedroom on his bed, he sat. Took a sip of his coffee as he looked from his window into hers.
And contemplated.
What was going through Bree Leake’s mind while she paced the length of her room, talking into her cell phone? Who was she talking to? The girl Anna? Her mother?
She had changed clothes since dinner. Her jeans replaced with sweatpants, the soft-spun pink sweater, which he couldn’t help noticing as he’d rubbed arms with her at dinner, replaced with a holey Gatlinburg-Pittman High School T-shirt.
Chip pulled the scarf off his neck and dropped it on the bed.
There was something beautiful yet strange in the number of expressions flying across Bree’s face as she paced. Her eyes were free of the annoyance they held whenever he was in her presence. Dropped was the wall she put up whenever they stepped outside in the mornings at the same time. And yet something stiff, complex, creased her forehead as she walked, her mouth tipping up and down in what appeared to be attempts at smiling. Like she was trying to keep herself together while her face stated clearly: she was not okay.
She stopped pacing. Turned her back to the window. Started to nod vigorously.
When the heel of her hand started wiping at her temple, he realized he was standing.
He shouldn’t be watching this.
Chip flicked on his bedroom light and moved downstairs, finishing off his cup before he hit the landing. He should let Bree handle her own affairs. She had plenty of people in her life who could swoop in and assist if needed. Plenty of people she’d want to talk to. Who was he, anyway? He was probably the last person on earth she’d ever discuss her life with.
He felt pent-up energy (no thanks to the caffeine) and dumped his coffee mug in the kitchen sink. He could go on a run, sure, but his calves still ached from the long mountain-bike trail he’d done yesterday with Russell. One glance around the room confirmed at least three house projects he could be doing, but his eyes just roved from one to another without enough interest to stop. He could reply to his mother’s group email discussing Easter plans. Yes. This was the perfect time to finally get to it.
Chip moved to his office and pushed his desk chair out.
As he sat down, he felt a jab at his thigh.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out Dan’s business card.