widow. Please don’t be fooled.”
One by one, the neighbors shook their head or waved their hands at her dismissively before turning to head back to their homes. Jessa’s face filled with confusion. “Hypocrites!” Jessa yelled at them, the veins in her throat straining as her heart beat wildly. “All of you are nothing but hypocrites. To hell with you!”
One by one, the doors to homes opened and closed behind her neighbors. She whirled and Jaime’s porch was clear.
Jessa was left alone in the street ... like worthless trash.
Like the little girl left behind by her mother. A mother who never came back for her.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she stormed up the street to her home. She slammed the door hard enough to make her entire 3,000 square foot home shake. “Damn,” she swore in a fierce whisper, sliding down the door until she sat on the floor and then pressed her knees to her chest.
Her gaze shifted about the beautiful grand foyer and inadvertently landed on the entrance to the living room.
Pow!
Memories of the night came flooding back to her. Jessa flinched and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t erase the memory of all the blood or the sight of the back of Eric’s head blown away.
Tears raced down her cheeks. She didn’t feel any of the victory she thought she would claim. There was no redemption in her revenge, and everything she claimed that night in the hospital with the chaplain at her side had gone out of the window.
“God forgive me,” Jessa whispered, her lips trembling as more tears fell and more emotions that she couldn’t quite name welled up in her chest. “Lord, please ... please don’t give up on me.”
Chapter 3
T he sounds of construction from the first level of her home had forced Jessa to rise early and spend the majority of her morning on the large balcony surrounding her master suite. The noise was a major distraction, but ever stepping into her living room again with it looking like it did when she almost died was a definite no-no.
She’d even paid the hefty price for them to get started on the project on a Sunday. She couldn’t go another day avoiding looking in or going near the room at all costs. In her mind, that room was nonexistent, but she knew that couldn’t last forever. And since she had no intention of leaving Richmond Hills again, she had to make sure the home she loved stayed the home she loved.
Thus the contractors taking over her first floor. Her wish to have everything about that room changed was coming true. Money talked and Jessa paid her interior decorator, Keegan Connor, well enough to make sure bullshit walked. The room had been stripped bare—the flooring, the furnishings, the fireplace, and the fixtures. Everything. Gone. And hopefully the memories along with it. In a week the room would be completely redone.
Jessa sighed as she tried to focus her attention on the leather-bound Bible in her lap. She was trying to strengthen her ties to the Lord and believed that she had to turn to Him because she had no one else. No parents. No husband. Not even the man she thought she loved. No friends.
“ ‘Just me, myself, and I—that’s all I got in the end,’ ” Jessa sang the Beyoncé hook softly.
But then her eyes fell on the Bible. The chaplain said that God never leaves you.
Biting her full lips, she shifted her eyes up to the skies. Jessa had never been one to mull over the lack or abundance of friends. Never. But she felt her desolation. She felt her vulnerability. She felt like a leper in her community. She had never been the type of woman—the type of person—to give a fuck.
Being six years old and standing there as your mother walked out of your life, climbed into a car with one of her men, and drove away never to be seen again had a way of hardening a heart. Top that with the inconsistent phone calls filled with lies of coming back for her and then the calls dwindling down to the point she stopped having hope it was her
One by one, the neighbors shook their head or waved their hands at her dismissively before turning to head back to their homes. Jessa’s face filled with confusion. “Hypocrites!” Jessa yelled at them, the veins in her throat straining as her heart beat wildly. “All of you are nothing but hypocrites. To hell with you!”
One by one, the doors to homes opened and closed behind her neighbors. She whirled and Jaime’s porch was clear.
Jessa was left alone in the street ... like worthless trash.
Like the little girl left behind by her mother. A mother who never came back for her.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she stormed up the street to her home. She slammed the door hard enough to make her entire 3,000 square foot home shake. “Damn,” she swore in a fierce whisper, sliding down the door until she sat on the floor and then pressed her knees to her chest.
Her gaze shifted about the beautiful grand foyer and inadvertently landed on the entrance to the living room.
Pow!
Memories of the night came flooding back to her. Jessa flinched and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t erase the memory of all the blood or the sight of the back of Eric’s head blown away.
Tears raced down her cheeks. She didn’t feel any of the victory she thought she would claim. There was no redemption in her revenge, and everything she claimed that night in the hospital with the chaplain at her side had gone out of the window.
“God forgive me,” Jessa whispered, her lips trembling as more tears fell and more emotions that she couldn’t quite name welled up in her chest. “Lord, please ... please don’t give up on me.”
Chapter 3
T he sounds of construction from the first level of her home had forced Jessa to rise early and spend the majority of her morning on the large balcony surrounding her master suite. The noise was a major distraction, but ever stepping into her living room again with it looking like it did when she almost died was a definite no-no.
She’d even paid the hefty price for them to get started on the project on a Sunday. She couldn’t go another day avoiding looking in or going near the room at all costs. In her mind, that room was nonexistent, but she knew that couldn’t last forever. And since she had no intention of leaving Richmond Hills again, she had to make sure the home she loved stayed the home she loved.
Thus the contractors taking over her first floor. Her wish to have everything about that room changed was coming true. Money talked and Jessa paid her interior decorator, Keegan Connor, well enough to make sure bullshit walked. The room had been stripped bare—the flooring, the furnishings, the fireplace, and the fixtures. Everything. Gone. And hopefully the memories along with it. In a week the room would be completely redone.
Jessa sighed as she tried to focus her attention on the leather-bound Bible in her lap. She was trying to strengthen her ties to the Lord and believed that she had to turn to Him because she had no one else. No parents. No husband. Not even the man she thought she loved. No friends.
“ ‘Just me, myself, and I—that’s all I got in the end,’ ” Jessa sang the Beyoncé hook softly.
But then her eyes fell on the Bible. The chaplain said that God never leaves you.
Biting her full lips, she shifted her eyes up to the skies. Jessa had never been one to mull over the lack or abundance of friends. Never. But she felt her desolation. She felt her vulnerability. She felt like a leper in her community. She had never been the type of woman—the type of person—to give a fuck.
Being six years old and standing there as your mother walked out of your life, climbed into a car with one of her men, and drove away never to be seen again had a way of hardening a heart. Top that with the inconsistent phone calls filled with lies of coming back for her and then the calls dwindling down to the point she stopped having hope it was her
Similar Books
Within the Flames
Marjorie M. Liu
Prey of Desire
J. C. Gatlin
Diary of a Dork - Articles of Sarcasm and Irreverence
Michael Cargill
What Would Kinky Do?: How to Unscrew a Screwed-Up World
Kinky Friedman
The Delta Chain
Iain Edward Henn
RecruitZ (Afterworld Series)
Karice Bolton
What We Are
Peter Nathaniel Malae
Werewolf versus Dragon
David Sinden
Sweet Tea at Sunrise
Sherryl Woods