The Duzy House of Mourning by Ka Hancock

Author:Ka Hancock [Hancock, Ka]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent Publisher
Published: 2023-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

twenty-one

He wasn’t wrong. But how could he have spoken to me that way? How dare Tyson Pierce speak such awful truth to me? That man had seen me—seen into me—and I hated that I had been seen. How did I let that happen?

I slumped onto the window seat and fell into my own lap, pummeled and humiliated replaying his terrible words: “…you don’t love her enough…you’re mad because she’s her…you never loved her enough…never loved her enough…never enough…” It was unbearable.

I don’t know how long I sat folded in on myself, but I was eventually saved from the wretchedness when my phone rang. I didn’t answer it, but when it stopped ringing, I listened to Grandy’s message. The sound of her voice like a life-preserver, even if all she wanted was some lost paperwork.

I dragged myself upright and took some deep breaths, wiped my nose, and rubbed my scratchy eyes. Then I splashed my face with cold water in my mother’s palatial bathroom. I looked like hell, and I was making myself sick obsessing about how unhinged Tyson Pierce must have thought I was. I tried to hate him a little for making me feel so bad. But how could I do that when he’d admitted something just as rough about himself?

It was a moot point anyway; I was never going to see him again, which was probably better for all egos concerned. Especially mine.

This is what I told myself as I got on with gathering my mother’s books—some of them, anyway. I knew I couldn’t take them all, but I suddenly very much wanted the ones listed on the back of the photo I’d found. It was a good distraction. An excellent distraction that kept my hands busy and my mind focused.

I’d been at my task a few minutes when the chimes rang. I had no intention of answering the door since I was such a mess and not in the mood to talk to anyone. But the chimes sounded again and then again, and I realized my car in the driveway made it clear that I was there, so I reluctantly made my way downstairs, swiping the lingering evidence of my bad day off my face as I went. It was probably Oscar.

But it wasn’t.

When I opened Rose’s massive door, I was surprised to find—leaning against the frame on an outstretched arm, looking both sheepish as well as commanding—Tyson Pierce. He didn’t smile. In fact, he looked decidedly nervous. “Hi, January.”

“Hi.”

“This is awkward…” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

He drew a dramatic breath. “Funny story…My phone is in my uncle’s truck…and it seems I’m two hours from where I live.”

I lifted a brow. “That’s not good.”

“No.”

“What have you been doing all this time?”

He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve been sitting on this porch trying to get the courage to knock on this door and beg for a ride home.”

I arched a brow. “That took some courage, huh?”

“You have no idea…”

We stared at each other for a long, moment. Then I

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