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“Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
She glanced away with an awkward smile.
I was such an idiot.
I followed her through a doorway into a work area. A wide bank of cabinets with shelves above it lined one wall and there was a small desk in one corner with an open laptop and a mug with a little blot of lipstick on it.
My eyes lingered on the red print of her lips.
I needed to stop that. Focus, Z.
The electrical panel was on the back wall. I opened it and even though the labels were faded with age, they were legible.
“If you need anything else, let me know,” she said, and I didn’t miss the hesitance in her voice, like she wasn’t quite sure how to talk to me. “I have a client coming any minute, so I’m hoping the rest of the electricity can stay on.”
“I can turn off the power to the restroom. If anything is on the same circuit, it might not work, but I’ll get you up and running as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Um… thanks.”
The bell on the front door tinkled and without another word, she disappeared out into the salon.
I shook my head. It was my fault things were awkward between us. I was the one who’d screwed up in the first place—because of course I was, screw-up was my middle name. It wasn’t like we’d dated. She wasn’t an ex-girlfriend. I’d just done something stupid. Something I could have put behind us years ago.
But then I’d made it worse by avoiding her. She’d walk into a room, I’d walk out. It hadn’t taken long for it to feel like I had to stay away from her, otherwise… I don’t know, the sun would go supernova or something.
So there we were, years later, and I never knew what to say when I was around her. She probably thought I hated her, which just made me avoid her more.
Vicious cycle.
Regardless of how I felt about being in close quarters with Marigold, I had a job to do. I flipped the breaker to turn off power to the restroom, then went back out to my truck and grabbed my ladder and tools.
Marigold had her client, Sandra, in a chair. She ran her fingers through her short silver hair as she talked to her in the mirror.
I took my ladder to the restroom, trying not to be too intrusive. After setting up the ladder and strapping on my tool belt, I climbed up to start taking the old fixture down.
Drywall dust fell as I finished unscrewing the old fixture and pulled it down from the ceiling. It was heavier than it looked, so I rested one end on my shoulder while I tested the wires to make sure they weren’t hot, and got to work on the wiring.
Marigold’s voice got a little louder. It sounded like she’d moved Sandra to the washing sink on the other side of the wall. I tried to focus on what I was doing, not on the sound of her voice.
It wasn’t easy.
Out of nowhere, my vision went black. It was like driving too fast in a blizzard late at night—dark, but bright white flashes were everywhere, moving so rapidly they ran together. A mechanical crackling sound filled my ears, drowning out everything. It took me a few seconds to recognize what was happening.
Oh, fuck. Am I being electrocuted?
I couldn’t let go of the wires. Somehow my brain was working well enough to recognize electrical current was flowing through my body, probably burning me from the inside—although I didn’t feel any pain—but I couldn’t move.
This might kill me. And I never told Marigold how I feel about her.
As quickly as it started, the noise stopped. The silence hit me like a blow. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was dark, nothing but vague shadows.
Wait. I wasn’t on the ladder anymore. I was on the floor.
Then the pain hit.
My arms and chest were on fire but I still couldn’t move. I sucked in a breath, finally drawing air into my lungs, and my heart pounded in my chest. Pain radiated across my back. I must have fallen off the ladder and hit the ground. Hard.
“Zachary?”
