Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 53

"For sure," I say, wondering why she even needs to ask permission. Unless one of the staff—who seem to adore her—were to tell someone, I'd never know. "Your hours aren't as important as the deadlines. I've told you before. As long as you wrap up your work and sign everything off for our overnight guy, you can leave when you'd like."

"It won't be a regular thing," she assures me. "Just tonight."

"Was I complaining?" I stand reluctantly, hating that I wonder even more about her life. Why does she feel so small that she has to beg for time off just to be with her son? "Do you feel like you're handling the workload?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am I laying it on too thick?" Like the Minnesota project, which is outside her duties here. "I understand you need a life outside this place, Salem. You're a mom."

"Thanks. That's very considerate." She frowns, her brows knitting together.

Her surprise irritates me.

"I never like to overwork my employees. Like I've said before, that's for executives only."

"I'm not overworked, Patton." She turns back to her screen now. "As a matter of fact, I like it. And if I help contribute to your expansion, that's a great thing for my résumé."

For when she leaves.

Which is inevitable, sooner or later, because this job and a glorified mentorship isn't meant to be a long-term forever career. I'm sure she has dreams beyond the company, whether that's leveraging this experience for a new job or another business venture.

"Of course," I growl. Understandable. All of it.

I just don't get why there's this anxious gnawing in my chest at the thought of her walking out of my life a second time, like a stranger in the night.

Goddamn, that isn't my place.

I shouldn't want to leave a permanent mark on her life.

Especially when her moving on is clearly what's best, the only thing that should happen in any sane world.

"Get out of here at a decent hour," I tell her.

When I turn around in the doorway and look back, she's barely nodding, already back to crushing her improvements like I was never here at all.

SALEM

I get Arlo to his martial arts lesson just in time with a check in my hand for the instructor.

Another payment made.

Another activity he won't have to quit because I can't pay the tab. Another round of messages from Kayla—flipping Kayla—ignored.

"Wait, wait! Mommy, you've gotta see this." He strikes a combat pose, holding one little fist up parallel with his shoulder and the other by his waist.

He looks so fierce I almost laugh.

"I saw it. I watched your whole class, sweetie, but very cool. Keep practicing. Your teacher will like that. Now, Mommy's getting cold, so can we practice more at home?"

"It's snowing!" he yells excitedly.

"And my fingers are falling off. I need new gloves." All of me is frozen, really. I've barely been outside for a minute and I can feel the wind snaking under my coat. "You can practice all you want once we get home, okay?"

"Promise you'll watch me?" "Do pinkies ever lie?"

I bend down, hooking my cold little finger into his. He laughs, shaking his head.

Then I herd him into the car without protest.

The thick snow feels like it's already an inch deep on the sidewalk, and the melting slush under my shoes makes my feet number.

My fingers are a little clumsy as I strap Arlo into his kiddie seat. "Can we go sledding again?" he asks.

"Maybe this weekend if it lasts. But don't count on it; we're getting to the point where this stuff turns to slush overnight."