Page 45 of Playing With Temptation

“I have to get that,” she said. “It could be the school.”

I let her go. She immediately hightailed her ass down the hall. She might’ve been in a hurry to get to her phone to make sure the school wasn’t calling but that wasn’t the only reason she was running away.

But this time, I was old enough and smart enough not to let her get away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I once again glanced around the room.

I didn’t lie when I told Rainy I’d always wondered how she’d decorate our home. What she’d created here was not something I’d ever imagined. I always thought she’d go bold. Bright. Happy. Loud.

This was the opposite. Subdued. Peaceful. Calm.

Her couch was a small two-seater in a muted grey. The chair was a big denim-covered navy-blue. The throw pillows, and there were a lot of them, were all multicolored in burnt orange, cream, blue. Different textures and patterns. The area rug the same. She had a large cream macramé wall-hanging above her couch. Next to that were light wood frames on either side with bright green leaves in the center surrounded by wide matting in cream. In one corner next to the couch was a huge fake fig tree. The other side had a small wicker table, fake potted plant sitting on top. Her coffee table was one of those big round things that looked like the wood had been woven together.

Opposite the couch there was a small TV mounted on the wall that looked totally out of place. Not only because the wall was long and a much larger TV would’ve fit but that one object seemed to mess with the peaceful, calm, relaxing vibe she had going on. The table she had under the TV didn’t have a gaming system, which surprised me since she had a ten-year-old son, but on the other hand it didn’t. Her living room said, ‘sit, relax, stay awhile’ but you’d do that having a chat or reading a book, not by watching TV or playing video games. There was a Bluetooth speaker mixed in with picture frames and nicknacks—a bright yellow bird standing on two wooden legs, a cast iron bull with his head down, an interesting piece of driftwood, three wooden blocks that were stacked. From top to bottom in black print they read: In a world where you can be anything, be kind.

The space was small.

It was not cluttered.

All of it mismatched.

None of it should’ve worked together but it did.

I caught sight of the flowers on her kitchen table. That too shouldn’t have worked; it was one of those pedestal tables, the chairs very obviously didn’t belong seeing as they were a different shade of stain. The thing was old and dinged up. On its own it was ugly as fuck, yet it, too, fit.

Nothing about this was what I would’ve pictured our home looking like. Yet, now that I was standing here seeing what Rainy had wrought, I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

If everything hadn’t turned to shit, I could’ve had this.

We could’ve had this.

Calm. Peaceful. Relaxing.

All of it a far cry from how I’d lived the last sixteen years.

My cell vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out, saw Ethan’s name, and immediately took the call.

“I’m still alive. Just like I was an hour ago when you called and eight hours before that.”

I swear my partner was worse than a mother calling me every few hours to make sure I hadn’t died from some undetected brain bleed.

Instead of being met with the laughter I expected, Ethan was all business.

“Got the ID on our Jane Doe,” he started. “Ashley Monroe.”

In the last few days, I’d tried to remember where I’d seen our vic. I still couldn’t remember and now that I knew her name, that nagging feeling that I knew her intensified.

“Twenty-six. No kids. Never married. She recently purchased a house in the Olmstead Estates neighborhood.”

Olmstead Estates was an older neighborhood east of the Army base. The homes were small but well maintained. I knew there were a lot of call outs to that area, but it was mostly car break-ins and parties that went too late and were too rowdy.

I still couldn’t place Ashley Monroe.

“She teaches second grade at Deer Park Elementary,” Ethan finished.