Chapter 42

“Or something,” I muttered. Loudly, I declared, “I’ll be fine. I need to get ready for work. Excuse me.”

I left the kitchen and headed for my bedroom, ignoring Trent calling after me and the argument that began after that. When Shirley got the bit in her teeth about something, she rarely let it go. I liked her well enough, but I could take only so much, depending on her mood. Trent must be a saint, or the nookie was that good.

She would never understand about my past, and I didn’t want to think about that because it would bring up thoughts of Thorn, and I should let that go.

It had been a month since the altercation at the bar, and I wondered how he was, where he lived, if he was screwing his way up the coast just so he’d have a bed to sleep in at night. I kept thinking that I should have done more—insisted he come with me to get help—something.