Chapter Twenty-Four
Griffin
I almost laugh at Sierra’s sassy comeback. Linda’s face twists as though she’s stepped into a rotting skunk carcass, but she doesn’t look to me for support. At least she isn’t a complete moron.
“I’m going to throw my back out,” she whines.
“Ask Todd to smack your spine back into alignment once he’s sober. I’m sure he’ll be happy to,” Sierra says, then turns to me. “Do you want to come in?”
“Sure.”
She starts toward her home. As I follow, I note her hands are clenched so tight, they’re trembling.
Well. I’d be shaking mad too if I had to deal with a drunk and inane ex and an annoying step-parent. Thankfully, I have none of those.
Sierra maintains her composure, back straight and step elegant, until she opens the door and walks inside. I follow her into the foyer and shut the door, cutting us off from the outside world.
Sierra leans against the wall and lets out a long, steadying breath.
She’s got spunk,I decide with begrudging admiration. I don’t want to discover anything to like about her, especially when her shampoo’s already distracting enough. And her voice, too—all sassy and buoyant.
“You hanging in there?” I ask, making sure to stay away so I don’t do anything I’ll regret, such as putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine. Just need a moment. I didn’t expect Todd to show up like that.”
“Do you want to sit down? Pace a little?”
She blinks and looks around the foyer. “Geez! Where are my manners? Come on in and let’s sit down.”
She moves to the kitchen and pulls out a couple of chairs for us. The table is old and covered with nicks and scratches that attest to its age. But no matter how I try, I can’t picture her picking it up from a yard sale. The appliances in the kitchen are modern and top of the line, and the furniture is old but made of good wood—oak and cherry, mostly—with excellent craftsmanship. A damaged garage sale table wouldn’t fit the décor.
“Something to drink?” Sierra asks, opening the fridge. “I have juice or lemonade.”
“Water’s fine,” I say.
“Of course it’s fine. I have lots of it. I should’ve offered that as an option, too,” she babbles as she takes out a pitcher from the fridge and pours two glasses. She brings them over. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
She sits down. “Thank you for coming over.”
I look in the direction of her yard. “Does Todd bother you a lot?”
“No. He hasn’t really bothered me like this.” Suddenly, she frowns. “Actually, he’s gotten a bit in my face before, but he was drunk at the time. I thought it was just a one-off thing because he couldn’t believe I went through with the divorce.”
“People can get a little crazy when they become single against their will. They escalate until they finally accept that it’s over or they get thrown in jail.” I’ve seen the drama firsthand. Mom. Dad. Their men and women. It’s enough to make anyone cynical about relationships. And jaded enough to want to live alone for the rest of one’s life.
Just imagine the blissful peace and silence.
“But today… I mean, it’s been weeks since the divorce became finalized,” Sierra says.
“The news that he’s divorced just hit the campus. I understand he had a pretty rough day.” Lori got a hold of the Beowulf-esque reaming video, courtesy of a professor from the English department, and made sure to share it with everyone in Economics. I watched it on my phone, and was torn between wincing—because it was surgically painful—and laughing—because Todd deserved it.
“I see.”
“So he has a new and more immediate motivation to get you back. Your attack hamsters won’t help, unless they’re the size of Dobermans,” I say.
Her gaze slides to a small table by the fireplace. I notice a cage with a couple of the tiny rodents inside.