Love Arrives in Pieces by Betsy St. Amant

Author:Betsy St. Amant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2015-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chase knocked on Stella’s apartment door, then again, louder. He’d been outside on the street when he saw her mother leave. She had even turned and called something back into the apartment before she’d left, so Stella had to be inside. He had wisely waited in the car until Claire Varland drove away.

He wasn’t scared of the woman, exactly. Just figured there was no reason to deliberately throw himself before a firing squad.

He knocked again, his stomach roiling with nerves. He’d had an idea earlier at work, one that wouldn’t go away, and when Stella hadn’t answered her phone a while ago, he’d decided to pop by and ask her about his idea in person.

She’d be less likely to say no to his face.

He waited, one shoe scraping the concrete outside her door in an anxious rhythm. Nervous to talk to her? Maybe. He really wanted her to say yes to his idea—not only would it help the Cameo, but it would help her. Well, them.

Okay, maybe him. It was probably two parts selfish, really. He just wanted to see her. But if they were going to be friends, they needed to spend some time together away from the construction, and it made sense to go live out his plan tomorrow while the plumber was finishing up the restrooms. He needed this truce of theirs to be real.

He knocked again, hating the anxiety in his gut, hating that it mattered so much that she say yes.

Hating that she wasn’t answering the door.

Was she avoiding him? They’d made up at the theater yesterday—he hadn’t even had time to tick her off or offend her again. Unless she and her mom had argued, and then, well. He’d probably hide out too. Claire Varland could do that to a person. But hiding wasn’t healthy, and it wasn’t like Stella.

And if they had fought, she probably needed a hug.

That was the reason he told himself why he kept knocking, anyway. “Stella?” He yelled louder, knocked harder. “Stella!”

No answer. But what was that sound inside the apartment? He pressed his ear against the door but couldn’t identify the noise. A vacuum cleaner? Maybe she just couldn’t hear him.

But his instincts told him otherwise. Something was wrong. The way Claire had stomped to her car, the way Stella refused to answer the door . . .

Even when she’d been upset with him that first day, she’d answered.

Slammed the door shut in his face afterward, but she’d answered.

What if she’d passed out again . . . and she was in there, alone? What if she’d hit her head this time?

She could be hurt. He couldn’t leave. Not without knowing. He looked under the welcome mat for a key but found only piled up red dirt and a crunchy leaf. There was no other decorative rock or figurine nearby. He stepped back, studying the door, then felt up and around the top of the frame. Ah, there. Cold metal met his eager fingers. He made a mental note to remind her to quit hiding her keys in such obvious spaces.

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