Page 33 of The Complete Truth Duet
He sighed, allowing his head to sag forward, but his posture remained tense. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
My eyes flashed wide, and a victorious smile split my lips. “I have let it go. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other.”
“Bullshit,” he told the floor. “You think I don’t see you standing at your door every night? Your lights come on and off. Your feet shadow the crack at the bottom. And, worse than that…I feel you. Watching me.” He slowly turned his dark, hollow gaze over his shoulder. “I know you’re there, Cora. Because I feel it when you leave.”
On one hand: Busted!
On the other hand: Oh my gahhhhhhhh. He felt me.
I cleared my throat and straightened my back. “Okay. So…maybe I haven’t exactly let it go. But you’re sitting outside, staring at my door, Penn. You’re not at the railing that overlooks the parking lot. Or the stairs out back that nobody uses. Not even the roof, where you could actually see the stars. You are sitting in the breezeway, staring at my door. If you ask me, that feels a lot like you haven’t let it go, either.”
He shook his head and once again faced forward, muttering, “Why are you so fucking stubborn?”
“Me? Are you going to stop boring holes into my door each night?” Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
“Fuck. Me,” he grumbled.
But it wasn’t a no!
Unwilling to crowd him, I remained in the doorway and continued talking to his back. “We don’t even know what this thing is, Penn. I’m relatively sure a conversation is not going to kill either of us. Who knows? Maybe you like mustard and it will be a total wash from the get-go.”
He blew a hard breath out, which I thought might have been in the same sound family as a laugh, but since I couldn’t get a read on his face, I couldn’t be sure. It quickened my pulse all the same though.
“Think about—”
We both jumped when a shrieked, “Cora!” came from my front door.
“Ugh,” I groaned, cursing the evil gods of bad timing.
Another day.
Another drama.
And right in the middle of my own personal drama with Penn.
“Hold that thought,” I told him, shoving off the doorjamb. When I reached the front door, I snatched it open and snapped, “What?”
Guilt slammed into me like a freight train when I saw Brittany standing there with a bloody towel pressed to her shoulder and sporting a grimace.
“What the hell happened?” And why is everyone suddenly bleeding all the time!
I pulled at her wrist, revealing a gash at least six inches long on her collarbone.
“The fucking ceiling fan fell on me.”
My head snapped back. “How is that possible?”
She wrenched her arm away. “Because we live in a death trap! The whole goddamn building is going to collapse on us one of these days.”
“It’s not a death trap… We’re just…going through a few hard times right now.”
Yeah, okay. It was totally a death trap.
“Well, it’s about to become a whole hell of a lot harder for me now. How am I supposed to go to work tonight with this?” She huffed. “‘Sorry, dude. I know you’re paying for a hand job, but the good one’s out of commission. How do you feel about a lefty? Oh, don’t worry about that blood pouring from my shoulder. Fetish is free of charge tonight.’” She tipped her head to the side and shot me a murderous scowl.
I rolled my eyes. “How about you put the dramatics aside and let me bandage you up?”
She laughed without humor. “Oh, right. I’m dramatic. I could have been killed. Meanwhile, your highness is up here having her bathroom renovated.”
I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’d hardly call this a renovation. I couldn’t get the diamond-crusted floors or anything. Call the Enquirer. I’m being forced to make do with…” I leaned forward and partitioned off my mouth before whispering, “Running water.”
“Okay, while you get that, I’ll try not to let Meredith and Jewels cave in on me.” Turning on a toe, she stomped away.
Drew rounded the corner, jumping out of the way to escape being run over. “Everything okay?”
“A ceiling fan fell on one of the girls downstairs and she’s convinced that the building is crumbling, and I’ll be honest: I’m not sure she’s wrong.” I sifted my fingers through the top of my hair. “Aren’t ceiling fans connected to a stud or something? They can’t just fall from the sky, can they?”
He quirked his lips. “The sky? No. The ceiling?” He shrugged. “Depending on who installed it, and given that I’ve seen Hugo’s handiwork, anything is possible.”
I huffed, “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Pun intended?” he asked on his way over to me. He stopped, teetering on the edge of too close, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just…Drew.
