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7
Faith longedto dump her shopping basket, hightail it out of the mini-mart, lock herself in her bathroom, and soak in a hot bubble bath. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Worse, Shane didn’t seem inclined to leave without some kind of explanation. And yeah, he probably deserved one after standing up to Mason on her behalf, but she couldn’t handle the questions right now.
“That’s interesting,” Shane said, following her as she picked up her basket and continued down the aisle, “Because you’re white as a sheet and your hands are shaking.”
Why must he choose now to become observant? He was freaking clueless about most things most of the time, and that was how she preferred it.
“I need to finish shopping and get back to work,” she said without looking at him. “You’re welcome to make yourself useful, but I’ve already wasted too much time.”
“Okay.” He kept pace with her. “What do you need?”
She rattled off the items on her list and together, they collected them from the shelves. When they reached the counter, Dylan and Hunter were waiting for Shane to pay the bill so they could go.
“Thanks for your help.” She unloaded the contents of her basket onto the counter. Realizing she’d sounded like she was blowing him off, she took a deep breath and made an effort to be more sincere. “Really, thank you. That encounter with Mason could have gone poorly if you weren’t around.”
“No problem.” He paid for his family’s groceries, and Dylan wheeled the cart through toward the exit, clearly ready to leave. Shane hesitated before following. “If you won’t talk to me, you should consider talking to one of your friends.”
Faith nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement. See you around.”
“What was that about?” Wendy, the cashier, asked, lowering her voice so no one else would hear.
Faith just shook her head. She didn’t have the energy to explain. “Bad day, that’s all.”
Wendy looked disappointed, but Faith wasn’t about to grease the gossip wheel any more than it already had been.
“Well, I hope it improves,” she said.
“So do I.”
Faith carried her purchases the few blocks to The Shack, unloaded them, and returned to work. Later in the evening, she drove home. Her house, a small weatherboard place painted cream and navy, was blessedly empty. Her parents must be out with Leon. She let herself inside, crawled onto her sofa bed, and hugged her knees to her chest. While she wasn’t one to let negative experiences get the best of her, Mason Delphine was a festering wound that had never healed. Lowering her forehead to the tops of her knees, she sighed, releasing all the tension from her body.
God, she wished she had someone to talk to, but she’d rather keep her bestie, Megan, in the dark about her past, and none of her other girlfriends had been in town at the time everything went to hell. Maybe that said something about her. Was it possible she’d intentionally distanced herself from anyone who might remember the lies Mason and his girlfriend, Gigi, had spread?
She could always call Charity.
The thought took root, and she fished her phone out of her purse and found her sister’s number. Instead of calling, she typed out a message.
Faith: Hey, babe. Guess who I just ran into? Mason, that’s who. I have zero luck.
While she waited for a reply, she sprawled out and buried her face in a pillow. What a mess. Mason Delphine. She’d have been happy never to see him again, but the universe worked in strange ways. A buzz signaled Charity’s reply. Faith opened one eye and checked the response.
Charity: I hope you neutered him.
A laugh gurgled up her throat. Trust her sister to say exactly the right thing. When it came to men, they shared the bond of having epically awful taste. Other than that, they didn’t have much in common. Back in the day, Charity had been popular, petite, and pretty—the opposite of her older sister—and had distanced herself from Faith because of their differences. At the time, the rejection had hurt, but they’d made their peace since then. After all, the scandal that resulted in the ruination of Charity’s marriage had been much further reaching than any high school drama. Was it wrong that Faith was a little grateful about the awful things that had happened in Charity’s life to bring her sister back to her?
Faith: Not this time. Maybe next. He’ll be at the wedding.
Charity: I’ll bring a scalpel. I’ll strap it to my thigh and go all Bond girl on his ass.
Faith snorted, her hand flying to her mouth so she didn’t goober all over the sofa.
Faith: Has anyone ever told you that your name doesn’t suit?
Charity: Only a million times.
Faith: Make it a million and one. Anyway, how are you doing?
It took so long for Charity to reply that Faith began to think she wouldn’t.
