Texas Grit by Barb Han

Author:Barb Han
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-03-09T18:56:51+00:00

Chapter Nine

Carrie woke after a couple hours of sleep. Glancing at the clock beside her bed, she realized it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. Panic gripped her that she’d somehow forgotten to open the store and then she remembered making the call to Harper earlier. Images of everything she’d worked so hard to build tumbling down the drain smacked her in the face. It was a sobering thought and one she didn’t want to give much energy to.

Her movement woke Coco, who was curled up at the foot of the bed. She hopped down and Carrie immediately missed her warmth.

There was a note propped up on the nightstand from Dade. She picked up the folded paper and turned the edges over with her fingers, thinking about the couple of kisses they’d shared before they’d come to their senses and put a little distance between them. He’d insisted on staying to make sure she was okay.

“Call when you wake up,” the note read. She didn’t make calls before coffee if she could avoid it.

Thoughts of last night at the sheriff’s office and of Brett’s murder stalked her, sitting like a heavy lump in her chest that made breathing almost impossible. At least Nash was gone.

She pushed up on her arms, still in disbelief any of this could be happening.

Maybe coffee could somehow wake her up from the nightmare of learning that someone she once cared about was gone. Brett. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest. He was so young, and she couldn’t even imagine how much pain he’d felt in those final few moments of his life.

Carrie threw her legs over the side of the bed and walked into the adjacent bathroom to splash cold water on her face and brush her teeth.

Her ringtone belted out from down the hall as she rinsed. Her heart stuttered, because her immediate thought had been that it was most likely Brett calling. But he wouldn’t be contacting her ever again. Carrie’s legs went rubbery, and she had to grip the wall with both hands to steady herself.

Don’t look up. Don’t look down. Keep forging ahead and life will catch up. Mrs. Sanders’s words wound through Carrie’s thoughts. She must’ve just turned sixteen years old when she’d lived in her group home. The kind woman had been diagnosed with a rare bone cancer and had had to shut down her operation.

Carrie’s heart lurched. The short time she’d lived with Mrs. Sanders had given her a chance to begin the healing process after that last brutal attack. The thought that Mrs. Sanders might be watching over Brett now offered some small measure of relief. Mrs. Sanders had a way of bringing hope to the hopeless. Brett might’ve turned out to be a jerk but Carrie didn’t wish him dead.

Fighting against the onslaught of emotion building, threatening, Carrie got to her phone as the call rolled to voice mail. She didn’t recognize the number, which was probably just as well.

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