Page 8 of Chasing Honor

Well, fuck my life.

This sucked.

3

Shortly after the woman with the camera had interrupted us, Carson and I headed home. My head was pounding, and I was tired. I’d had a week from hell. Lorenz had been wrong, the congressman’s detail hadn’t sucked, it fucking blew. He’d had his son with him on the campaign trail, and with the congressman up for reelection he was stressed and took it out on everyone around him. His twit son thought he was Mr. Billy Badass and barked orders at the officers. Luckily, it only lasted two days and they’d headed back to the fiery pits of wherever they’d come from.

“Daddy? Can we go over to Gran’s? I want to go swimming.” Carson asked as I walked us in the front door.

I hated having to tell her no, but the last thing I wanted to do was go to my parents’. My mom would complain I looked tired, and, truthfully, I knew she meant well, but I didn’t want to hear it. She’d be happy if Carson and I moved back into their basement where she could continue to take care of us both.

“No, Squirt. Someone is coming over to look at the room we’re renting out. But you’re going over tomorrow, remember?”

“I hope this one’s not creepy like the other ones.”

I looked down at Carson and smiled at her scrunched-up face.

“Me, too.”

Shit, maybe my mom was right. Renting one of my extra rooms out seemed like it was a good answer. But after the last two guys that’d come over, I wasn’t so sure. And the only woman that had answered my ad wasn’t much better. She’d been polite and nice to Carson but when she’d swung her eyes in my direction, she hadn’t tried to hide that she liked what she saw. That was never going to happen; she had trouble written all over her.

“Why were you mad at the lady at the park?”

My gut twisted remembering what a dick I’d been. A bad week coupled with the always present fear Chrissy would try and pop back into our lives had me overreacting. It wasn’t an excuse for my behavior, but when I saw the woman taking Carson’s picture my imagination went into overdrive. I hadn’t seen or heard from Chrissy since the day I’d been wheeled out of the hospital room with Carson tucked close. She’d done what she’d said she was going to do and had completely disappeared. But the what ifs plagued me.

“I wasn’t mad. I was concerned because a stranger was taking your picture.”

“Why, because it’s not safe?”

“Yes, because it’s not safe,” I repeated.

There was a knock on the door, and I checked my watch. Right on time.

“Run upstairs and play in your room.”

She was half way up the stairs when she yelled down, “Can I watch TV in your room?”

“Yes,” I answered.

I opened the door and had to blink a few times before I understood what I was seeing. What the fuck? The photographer from the park was standing on my door step. Her smile faded, and she glanced from side to side before she looked back to me and cocked her head to side. Confusion marred her pretty face. My eyes narrowed as I wondered if she’d followed us home.

“You following me?”

“I must have the wrong address.”

We both spoke at the same time.

Talking over each other again we both asked, “What?”

I gestured for her to go first.

“I said, I must have the wrong address. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“What address are you looking for?” She rattled off my address, making me even more concerned she knew where I lived. “A friend’s house?”

“No.”

“Then why are you looking for that address?”