Perfect Wreckage (Wrecked #2) - Catherine Cowles Page 0,94

let out a litany of curses as Alicia strode to her rented BMW, hips swaying as if that would bring me to heel. I eased down onto my front steps, watching as she tore off and away from my house. I rubbed at my temples.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

Kenna: What time are you heading over here? I was thinking I’d make chicken stir-fry for dinner.

My throat was suddenly dry, making it hard to swallow. I hadn’t told Kenna that I was coming over tonight. Sure, we’d spent the nights together for the past few weeks, but I hadn’t made any promises. But all of those nights came with silent expectations. Responsibilities I wasn’t sure I could follow through on. Seeing Alicia had been a cold reminder of what could happen when a person fell for someone else. They could convince you to play a role you never wanted to play. I tapped out a text.

Me: I’m gonna stay up on the bluff tonight. I’ve got some stuff I need to do, and I have to be up early.

Guilt ate at me as I waited for a reply. But tonight, I needed only one thing: to remind myself that I still had freedom at my fingertips. I’d don my brightest headlamp and tear down a few mountain bike trails. That would get my head on straight. And maybe a little distance was just what both Kenna and I needed.

42

Kenna

I flipped my phone over for approximately the twentieth time in the past hour. Nothing. I’d even stooped so low as to call Caelyn and ask her to text me, thinking my phone might be on the fritz. Good news, I wasn’t going to have to shell out the cash for a new cell. Bad news, I hadn’t heard anything from Crosby since last night.

When I’d driven into town this afternoon, his truck was sitting front and center at his office, so I knew he was done with court for the day. But still, not a peep out of him. I stared down at the little device in my hand, willing it to ding with some sort of explanation for Crosby’s disappearing act. Sure, it had only been one night, but something didn’t sit right in my gut. And I had learned to listen to that voice over the years. If something felt wrong, it usually was.

What was eating at me now were the millions of what-ifs running in circles through my brain. Crosby could be off-kilter because of something that had nothing to do with me. Or something could’ve gone wrong in the case with the Abbots, and he didn’t want to tell me. Or maybe Crosby was done playing house.

That idea had nausea sweeping through me. I’d slept horribly the night before, tossing and turning, worrying about Crosby and terrified for my heart that I’d placed in his hands when he hadn’t even asked for it. Now, I was exhausted. It had taken more than one coat of concealer to disguise the dark circles under my eyes.

“Kenna.” My realtor, Corrie, waved as she headed toward me. “Sorry I’m late.”

I gave her a warm smile, but it was forced. “You’re not. I’m early. Just excited to get these papers signed.”

Corrie had found me the perfect little space on one of the adorable little foot traffic streets that jutted off Main. It had room for a waiting area, an office, and even a small conference room. Plus, there was a kitchenette in the back that would allow me to make simple meals any time I didn’t want to eat out for lunch.

Corrie motioned me towards the street that my new rental was on. “It really is the perfect space.”

“I think so, too. Now I just have to think about furniture.”

She grinned at me. “I bet Bell can help you out with that.”

I was sure Bell would give me a screaming deal on any furniture pieces in her new shop, but I didn’t want to take advantage. I’d already promised myself to check the price tags before she quoted me any discounts. “She’d have the whole thing decorated in twenty-four hours if I let her.”

Corrie laughed. “That’s a good friend right there.”

“The best.”

Corrie pushed open the door to my new office. “Hello, Wendel. It’s good to see you again. I’ve got the paperwork all ready to go.”

Wendel looked a bit nervous, his gaze jumping from me to Corrie and back again. “I’m afraid we might have a problem.”

My

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