Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 26

For a second, I close my eyes, willing myself to end this conversation without a full psychotic meltdown.

"No, no, I promise we're good, Mr. Rory. Just don't call me Lady Bug!" Boom, there's my exit.

I fling the door open again and make my escape before my lungs seize up.

I've forgotten how to breathe and I'm drowning more by the second. I just know I have to get away from the source of it right now.

The stark panic fades by the time I reach my car, a battered old Toyota. I unlock it with trembling fingers and shoot him one last glance.

He's still sitting right where he was, watching me in his rearview mirror with a startled look on his face.

I don't know what he expected. I don't know what I expected. Did I want him to apologize?

To fall on his sword for reading my mind and instantly knowing all the ways he's doomed me to life on hard mode?

To suggest we do it again? God.

The very idea drives a painful giggle out of me—a desperate, breathy, hurt thing—as I throw myself behind the wheel and buckle up.

Yep, I'm blowing this.

Blowing it like a balloon animal specialist.

He won't want to work with me if I can't handle talking about a one- night stand we had six years ago. I don't know how I can even look him in the face after this.

If it weren't for Kayla recommending me through her dad, I'd be fired by now. No questions asked. Just a quiet letter asking me to leave before I ever really started.

I let my head clunk against the steering wheel, hoping it stops spinning at some point.

Angry emotions rise up again like old enemies you thought you'd never see again.

The nausea packs a punch, coiling in my stomach. Then more panic, lashing through my body like a current, straight to my fingertips.

Finally, the ache in my chest that attacks my tear ducts. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to scream.

So much for Patton Rory calling me lucky.

I have the worst luck of anyone I know, and the bad stuff just keeps piling on. Keeps on smacking me in the face.

When my forehead hits the horn and makes me jump, I jerk back up. He's gone now. Thank God.

Driving away in that enormous, sleek SUV that purrs rather than rattles every time you run the A/C.

This will not be another Salem Hopper disaster.

No matter what it takes, I decide I can do this. If I can make it through a stint at Higher Ends, I can survive anything.

For now, I just have to keep going, one day at a time. I slide the keys in the ignition and start the car.

The engine grumbles to life, and by the time I drive away, I'm done crying.

Before I get home that evening, I pick up Arlo from Mrs. Gabbard's, who's full of joy about her new granddaughter.

After spending a few minutes admiring photos of a baby that looks as red and wrinkled as a dried raisin, I escape up the stairs to our apartment.

"What do you think?" Arlo asks, holding up a drawing of what I think might be me. "Miss Peters told us to draw our heroes in class, so I drew you, Mommy."

That's a relief.

Last time they asked him to draw his hero in preschool, he drew Godzilla. That's what I get for letting the kiddo stay up with me to watch dumb monster movies.

"What a nice picture. You really brought out my eyes, big guy." I laugh at the oversized brown eyes as I unlock the door and usher him inside. "Where do you think we should put it?"

Our fridge has too many drawings to fit another masterpiece. "Ummm… you could take it to work?"