Page 107 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“Raffle sales were big. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping out.”
“No thanks needed. I was happy to.”
Working side by side with Nick to reach his goals had been fun. Sure, I could have just written him a check for the ten thousand dollars but I hadn’t wanted to use my money to help him, I’d wanted to use my mind. And the end result was worth all of the added work.
“So, any word from your dad?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. But let’s talk about it after dinner.”
“Okay.”
The troubles with Draven had consumed most of my headspace today. Mostly, I had been worried about how Nick was feeling. If he wanted to wait until later to talk, that couldn’t mean good things.
We ate simple but delicious club sandwiches for dinner and retreated into the living room to relax before bed. Nick worked to start a fire as I lounged on the couch, enjoying the pops and crackles as the fire came to life.
Home.
My house was five minutes away. But here with Nick, this felt like home.
It would be so wonderful to live here together someday. That was, if I didn’t completely alienate him by asking for a divorce. And the longer I put it off, the more likely that was to happen.
But with all the drama from his dad today, it wasn’t the time to bring it up. Nick didn’t need any more stress than he was already dealing with so I’d delay our conversation, yet again.
The fire was roaring and Nick settled next to me on the couch. “Jess called me today and gave me an update about Robertson’s boyfriend.”
“And?”
“The boyfriend pleaded guilty to all of the charges. We won’t be seeing him around again for a long time.”
No trial and an extended stay at a correctional facility meant the chances of me seeing that whacko’s face ever again were nil.
“And it gets better,” he said. “Guess who packed up and moved to Wyoming this weekend?”
“Aunt Kira?” I asked hopefully.
“Oh yeah.”
“Good-bye.” I smiled and waved my hand in the air.
“That was the good stuff, Emmy,” Nick said.
My nose scrunched up.
“Dad called me all fucking day. Even had Dash try a couple times. He’s putting on the pressure for me to help.”
“Are you considering it?”
“No,” he said. “But phone calls and visits are just the beginning. Dad’s fucking stubborn and rarely doesn’t get his way. He’ll start to escalate his persuasion techniques.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Threats. He’ll probably find some way to use you against me. Force me into it.”
“Oh my god,” I whispered.
“Don’t freak out yet,” he said.
“Too late.”
