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I praise her some more and give her a treat.
My phone rings, and I answer it. “Hi, I just got to yoga.”
“Hey. I might be a little late getting to your house,” Troy says. “Lucas and Kellan wanted to put in some extra time on the cabins this evening. And Garrett’s brainstorming a plot twist, so he’s here ’cause he figures hammering nails into a wall will help with the brainstorming.”
A laugh escapes me. “Do you think it will work?”
“Who knows? But it makes him happy, and it helps us build the cabins that much faster, so it works for me. But I shouldn’t be too late getting to your place.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get there. Bye.” I end the call and smile to myself. I never imagined I’d have a close male friend, but that’s what Troy has become.
Not close like Zara and Garrett. Troy and I are friendly friends. The kind of friends you hang out with…but with whom you don’t share your darkest secrets.
Violet walks up the path, and Bailey and I wait for her at the front door. Violet smiles at me, but it barely registers on her face, as if curling her lips requires too much energy.
She draws closer, and the glow from the porch light falls on her face, highlighting the faded bruise that mottles her jaw. It’s only when she’s standing next to me I realize it’s not faded as much as covered with makeup. My unease returns but for a different reason.
A flicker of a memory crashes my thoughts, of a fist making contact with my face. One of those few times my husband hit me there. When he did hit my face, it only made him angrier, meaner. As if his actions had been my fault.
“Are you okay?” The words rush out, my voice not much more than a paper-thin whisper. “What happened?” My gaze drops to her jaw so she knows what I’m talking about.
Violet’s hand jerks to her face, attempting to hide the bruise. But it’s too late. I can’t unsee it. “It’s nothing. Sophie woke up crying. I didn’t bother to turn on the light, and I walked into the doorframe.”
Icicles run down my body, prickling goose bumps awake. I touch Violet’s arm a beat before I realize my mistake and can stop myself.
She jerks her arm away as if my touch burned her. And I recognize her reaction for what it is. Fear.
“We should get inside,” she says hurriedly. “We don’t want to be late.”
She rings the doorbell and rushes into the house as soon as Shania opens the door.
I can’t move, every nerve in my body screaming,What if it was her husband?
“Jess? Are you coming?” Shania’s question jars me out of my stupor. She’s standing in the doorway, her head tilted to the side as if to figure out what’s going on with me.
Violet, Delores, Rose, and Samantha are already in the studio when I enter it. So are Katelyn and Amy.
“There’s our favorite dog.” Delores smiles at Bailey but respects the sign on her vest that saysDo Not Pet.
The group knows I’m training her to be a PSD, and they’ve all been supportive. Even Katelyn. But I still get the feeling she’s not a fan of mine.
“How did you get that bruise?” Amy points to Violet’s jaw. Violet gives her the same story she fed me, line for line. “God, that sounds like something I would do,” Amy says, a chuckle leaking into her words. “I’m the most accident-prone person I know.”
No one else seems to doubt Violet’s excuse. Maybe I’m wrong about it, but I can’t shake the feeling I’m not.
“How are the renovations going, Jess?” Rose lowers herself onto her mat, taking her time, age making her less agile.
“Troy and I have been working on the kitchen. It’s slowly getting there.”
“By slowly, you mean you’ve been too busy staring at that tight butt of his.” Samantha giggles, and her eyebrows do a jig halfway up her brow. “Who can work when you’ve got all that shirtless handsomeness working on your kitchen counter?”
My face heats hotter than the San Diego sun in July. “I didn’t say anything about him being shirtless.”
“Are you telling us he’s not shirtless when he works in your house?” Samantha sounds almost horrified.
“From what I’ve heard at bridge club,” Delores says, “he’s often shirtless when he works at his job sites.”
I roll out my yoga mat just so they can’t see the deepening blush on my face. “There’s a chance he’s been shirtless on occasion.” On more than one occasion.
