Footprints In The Sand - Michelle Horst Page 0,37

wanting to keep busy. If I stay busy the pain won’t be as bad.

Seth stayed on the couch last night. I make a fresh pot of coffee and peek into the living room. He’s sitting with his elbows resting on his thighs. I can’t believe he’s here.

I clear my throat. “I’m making coffee,” the words come out barely a whisper, but he hears me.

His head snaps up and when I see the tears, what little I have left of my heart shatters. I rush to him. I fall to my knees in front of him and I wrap my arms around him. After all these years I still have feelings for him and I can’t stand to see him in pain.

His hands grab at my shoulders and he pulls me to him. He holds me tightly and presses his face into my neck. I feel his tears warm on my skin and it makes my eyes burn with my own tears.

We sit like that for a while, again comforting each other.

Seth pulls away first. I get to my feet and go to pour us some coffee so he’ll have a moment to gather himself.

Seth is also the first one to break the silence. “I’m going to arrange for the funeral today.” His voice is hoarse with pain and it chips away at my soul.

I nod and swallow back the tears. “Okay. I’ll put up a note at the café. Would you like to have the people go there after the service? I could make some eats and ask Amo to come help out.”

“Yeah, I think that would be best.” He walks by me and heads for Jan’s room.

I stand lost for a moment before I grab my bag and leave. It feels as if something is chasing me as I run from the apartment.

~*~

Chapter Thirty-Four

Seth~

It’s three days after the funeral and I still can’t believe Aunt Janice is gone. I went back to the house right after it was over. I didn’t even say bye to Lacey, not like she’d miss me.

I just met with the lawyer. As Aunt Janice’s last living relative I get everything, except the café and apartment. Lacey got half of the café and half of the apartment. I don’t know why Aunt Janice gave me the other half. She should’ve given both places to Lacey.

Lacey wasn’t at the meeting with the lawyers. I don’t know why. Maybe she felt it wasn’t important enough to be there. She didn’t even cry at the funeral.

I turn the car around and speed back to the city. With every mile the tires race over, my anger grows.

I hardly have the car in park when I jump out and run into the building. The door to the apartment is wide open and I storm in. I slam into a red head and the box she’s carrying crashes to the floor.

“Hey!” she snaps at me. “People are walking here!” She drops to the floor and starts to gather clothes.

“Who are you?” I say, my voice way too harsh.

“I’m none of your business,” she snaps back and continues to throw the clothes in the box.

She picks the box up again and shoves me aside. I spare her another look before I go inside. I can’t find Lacey, and it only makes my anger grow. On my way out I bump into another woman. Where do they all come from?

She glares at me, too, and then shoves by me to get into the apartment. I grab hold of her arm. “Where’s Lacey?”

She yanks her arm free from my grasp and her glare only gets darker. “At the café, closing up,” she spits at me.

I’m so freaking confused with these women’s attitude! I walk the short distance to the café and when I get there Lacey is standing outside, one of her hands pressed flat against the door.

“There you are!” I’ve forgotten why I’m angry with her. She turns and holds out a set of keys to me. I frown and take them. “What’s this?”

Her eyes meet mine and that’s when I see how red and swollen they are. She’s been crying. I feel a twinge of regret that I was angry with her.

“It’s the keys to the café and apartment. All my stuff will be out by tonight.” She turns back to the café and her eyes well with tears.

“You’re crying because of a café and apartment?” I ask. I can’t believe she’s so shallow! The Lacey I remember didn’t care about things.