Unstable by L. A. Brink

Author:L. A. Brink [Brink, L. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lainey Kreinbrink

Glancing at my front door, I notice it is slightly ajar. A burst of fear shoots through me like electricity. I know I closed the door before I left. I immediately have 9-1-1 typed in, ready to call as I slowly approach the house. I know it’s stupid and I should immediately get back in my car, drive away, and call the police. After what happened last time though, I don’t want to sound like the girl who “cried intruder.” The security alarm isn’t sounding, so it’s turned off, which could mean either whoever is inside somehow disarmed it, or, more likely, in my rush to get to Ren’s house, I not only neglected to arm the alarm, but also didn’t latch the door all the way.

I slip inside the house, slowly closing the door behind me.

The house is silent.

I wait a few minutes, my ears straining to catch any sound out of the ordinary, but I hear nothing. I reset the alarm and do a quick check of the house to be sure. Only after I come out of the final room, satisfied no one is here, do I start to relax a little.

Functioning on autopilot, I’m lost in my thoughts, while I make dinner. I don’t even hear someone approaching me from behind and when I feel arms wrap around me, I gasp and jump, turning around ready to defend myself.

“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Marc chuckles. “I just got home. I said your name a few times. I thought you heard me.”

“It’s okay. I’m feeling a little jumpy today is all,” I say, my heart rate slowing as I wrap my arms around his waist, nuzzling his chest. I feel silly for my reaction.

“Okay, well dinner looks amazing. I wasn’t sure you would be up to make anything tonight,” he says. To my dismay, he lets me go. Instead, he works on setting the table.

“Yeah, it has been a rough day,” I say, deciding not to tell him about the door incident, and working to make my face as neutral as possible.

We eat dinner in relative silence, Marc and the girls doing most of the talking.

“We have a playdate with Sarah tomorrow, Mommy. Sarah’s mom said we could come over,” Anna says with a mouthful of food. I look at Marc for confirmation, and he gives me a slight nod.

“That’s great, girls,” I say with a forced smile. I feel bad for not having more energy to hide my burdens from my girls. I can tell they are aware that something is wrong, even if they don’t know exactly what it is.

“Hey, are you girls excited to shop for pianos this weekend?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood and distract them from my own inner turmoil. Hearing the word “piano” makes them perk up instantly and has them grinning from ear to ear, which leads to an animated conversation on whether they want an upright or a baby grand. I’m grateful they are doing most of the talking and I can plaster on a smile.

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