Jennifer L. Jordan Kristin Ashe Mystery 1 A Safe Place to Sleep

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hear the desperation in my voice.
"Work a little this morning, then nap this afternoon. Tonight after
dinner, I'll come home with you and spend the night. That way,
you won't have to call me. I'll be right there with you."
"Are you serious?" I was flabbergasted.
"Of course I am."
"You can't do that. You're dating Michelle."
"I'm not going to sleep on top of you. I'm just offering to stay
over. Nothing sexual, I swear it."
"Nothing sexual?"
"Nothing sexual. Guaranteed."
For a minute, I was tempted. Very tempted.
Then good sense overcame me.
Then good sense overcame me.
"Thanks anyway, Destiny, but I think I'd better sleep alone."
"All right, but you've got to swear you'll call next time."
"I'll call," I said without much conviction.
"Swear it, Kristin Ashe, or I'm packing my pajamas."
"I swear!" I said reluctantly and then added, "You really are
stubborn, aren't you?"
"You betcha!"
"By the way, how are you this morning?"
"Never been better," was her bright, if sarcastic remark.
"Seriously," I prodded her.
"Seriously," her tone was now somber, "I'm okay. I feel a little
weird, like last night was a night in someone else's life, but I'm
okay. Better than I expected, actually."
"No regrets?"
"Not at all. Something's shifting in me, Kris. It's subtle and it's
scary, and I'm not sure where it's all leading me to, but I'm ready
to go."
"That's good. We'll keep going then," I said with perhaps more
enthusiasm than I felt.
"Good, I'll see you tonight." And with that, she rang off.
When she picked me up, the first words out of her mouth were
not flattering ones.
"You look terrible, Kris," she said as I opened the car door.
"Thanks, Destiny," I said without humor, pausing before I got
into the car.
"Oh, no," she said, seeing that she'd hurt me, "I didn't mean it
that way. You look tired, that's all. I can see you didn't sleep
that way. You look tired, that's all. I can see you didn't sleep
much."
"Everyone's been telling me I look awful. What is it exactly? I
haven't broken out into zits. My hair isn't greasy. I brush and
floss two times a day, sometimes three. What exactly is it that's
changed?" I asked irritably.
"I guess I said the wrong thing?"
"You did, but seriously, what is it?"
She looked as if the last thing on earth she wanted to do was
answer my question.
"C'mon, Destiny, what? Tell me and maybe I can change it."
"Okay, you asked for it. You have dark circles under your eyes
and you frown a lot. You have a very deep frown line, you
know, right between your eyes."
"I know, I've always had it. I was frowning as I came down the
birth canal."
"You look a little pale, even your freckles look pale. Your nose
is kind of red."
"I sunburned it yesterday on a bike ride," I said with a touch of
hostility.
"The sun didn't come out yesterday, Kris, and you're the one
who asked me to tell you this stuff. I think you look beautiful.
You just don't look happy. Now will you please get in the car?"
"Okay," I conceded and dropped into the car seat. "Maybe I
shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. It's just that
everyone's been telling me I look terrible, and I'm kind of tired of
hearing it."
"Maybe they're concerned about you."
"Maybe they're concerned about you."
"Maybe," I grunted. "Where do you want to go to eat?"
"How about Italian?"
"Fine, I'm starved."
Destiny started the car but then abruptly shut off the engine.
"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this, Kris."
"Okay, we can go somewhere else. No problem. How about
Mexican? There's a great new restaurant on Broadway."
"No, I'm not talking about food. I'm talking about our search.
Maybe we should call it off."
"Why?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.
She looked away from me before she answered.
"I'm scared," was her quiet reply.
I reached over to comfort her.
"I'm here for you, Destiny. We can slow down, or even stop, if
it's too much for you."
"It's not me, Kris." She paused. "I'm scared for you."
"Oh," I mumbled, withdrawing my hand from her shoulder.
"I'm scared about the effect it's having on you."
"I can manage," I said curtly.
"I know you can, but the question is, do you want to?"
I'd honestly never thought about it that way before. I'd simply
coped. Even as a young child, I had elaborate defenses. On
some level, I think I always knew I'd been abused. In reaction to
the abuse, I'd treated my parents, and sometimes even my
brothers and sisters, with the same hatred and scorn I'd learned.
I coped by pretending and what a good pretender I was. I
I coped by pretending and what a good pretender I was. I
pretended not to need the innocent, loving touch a child needs. I
grew up not wanting anyone to touch me. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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