Libby Lane by C. E. Johnson

Author:C. E. Johnson [Johnson, C. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, suspense
Goodreads: 45273350
Published: 2019-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Cora may have finished her supper in record time, but I ate slower than usual. With every bite I took after her plate was clean, her snarl got bigger. The clank of the dirty dishes in the sink and the empty table has my heart racing. I wish talking about this were easier, and maybe it will be in time. The fact is that I like Cora, and I’m afraid if I start explaining, it will bring back all the reasons why I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I grab two beers from the fridge and hand one to Cora. Each step closer to the backyard twists my heart a little more.

We settle in the chairs on the back patio, and the stars shimmer in the black sky above. Before I can get the first words out of my mouth, a drop of water gathers in the corner of my eye. This is why I don’t talk about it.

“A year ago, Naomi lost her dad. And Cindy lost her husband.”

“I know that already,” she says.

“Allen was more than my best friend. He was the brother I never had. Met him when I was five years old. Spent our whole childhoods together. Hell, we even went to the Academy together. Eventually we both made it onto the Atlanta PD. It was a special bond he and I had. He was a great husband, and Cindy depended heavily on him.”

I glance at Cora, and she’s pulled her legs up with her chin resting on her knees. Looking to me for more. Waiting.

“We watched him die for six months. I spent every minute I could at their house, and every day, cancer took another piece of him. Cindy would sob for hours on my shoulder until she physically couldn’t cry anymore. And Naomi…” I stop talking as the tear falls. I despise crying, especially in front of a woman. But anytime I think about Naomi, there’s no controlling it.

“It’s okay,” Cora says as she reaches across the table between us and spills her beer all over my lap. “Oh shit. I’ll go grab some paper towels.” She bolts out of the chair and runs into the house. I couldn’t be happier to have a lap full of beer right now. It gives me the opportunity to wipe the wetness from my face. But when she doesn’t come back out after a few minutes, I start to wonder where she is. Wet or not, I hop out of the chair and take all three patio steps at once and go in the house.

“Cora?” I call her name but get no response. The light shines dimly from over the kitchen sink. The door to the cabinet I rarely use is open, and the glass jar that I only touch once a year sits on the kitchen counter next to the empty paper towel roll. A few of the white cards are scattered across the surface. I pick them up, my heart sinking with each word read.

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