Partners in Lime by Bree Baker

Author:Bree Baker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2021-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Grady wasn’t at my house when I got there, but the arrows and threat outside were gone as promised. My shoulders sagged in relief.

I hurried to the porch, then pointedly ignored the stack of boxes still waiting to be dragged inside. I sent a text to Grady after I was safely in my living quarters, letting him know I appreciated him.

When he didn’t respond after a few minutes, I began to wonder if he was upset about the threat left outside my door or Matt’s offer to stay at my place for a while. He hadn’t seemed happy when we spoke earlier, and I was sure he blamed me for both.

I faintly missed the days before we started dating, when there was nothing at stake if he didn’t like something I said or did. Now, there was a constant internal pressure to be a good girlfriend, and a growing sense of vulnerability I didn’t like. My deeply rooted but thinly veiled insecurity left my heart tender and afraid more often than not. And I hated it.

I changed into sweats and fuzzy socks, then made a cup of hot tea, checking repeatedly for signs of a text from Grady. My message to him had been delivered and opened, but he hadn’t responded.

I sent a text to Wyatt next, checking on the sandpiper.

Wyatt responded with a selfie. He gave the camera a thumbs up, and the bird was in the background, inside a cage at the wildlife rescue facility, its wing wrapped awkwardly. The text he sent next simply said:

He’s a fighter!

I smiled and relaxed a little more knowing the bird was going to be okay.

The house was still but not quiet, as I moved through the living space toward my bookshelves. Reliable ocean winds played gently around the windows and ancient rafters, causing muffled groans overhead. I nudged the baseboard with my toe, then slid the built-in shelving away. I’d discovered a small, hidden room behind the shelves last fall and presumed the space had originally been used to hide rum during prohibition. I’d slowly transformed it into my secret hideaway and safe space.

I’d spent long winter nights making the room my own. My grandmother’s golden velvet armchair now stood before the ancient desk that had already been inside. I’d added a teal throw pillow to the chair and a plush cream rug to the floor. Family keepsakes lined antique shelves and accent tables.

I twisted the knob on a gilded floor lamp with a hot-pink shade I’d placed near the door, illuminating the space. I’d tucked the lamp’s cord stealthily under the bookshelves, then beneath the living room carpet along the baseboard, and plugged it into an outlet I’d hidden with a plant stand for good measure.

Framed photos from my life on the island were arranged in decorative clusters on the walls. Wild horses on the beach. High school graduation. And sweet moments with Grandma.

I set my mug on the little desk, then sat and crossed my legs on the comfy chair.

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