Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
She did find it slightly humorous that her boss spent a good week putting up all the decorations between her appointments—only esthetician clients as Linda proclaimed her back couldn’t take the hours upon hours on her feet anymore—but would have to take them down in another day or so. Linda couldn’t stand to leave a theme up more than a couple of days past a holiday.
Tacky, she said.
Right.
The decorations being old was the tacky bit. Linda was far too soft-hearted for anyone to explain it was practically the same thing. At least, to the extent she took the decorating. That made a lot of difference.
It kept the woman happy, though, so nobody had a complaint. Including Delaney.
She did, however, peel the heart and arrow off her station’s mirror when Linda wasn’t looking because it kept flopping down. Not in the way, really. The damn thing just wouldn’t stay up and that bothered Delaney in a way she couldn’t explain.
Her boss hadn’t noticed.
Or didn’t care.
Valentine’s Day would be over by the end of the weekend, and when Delaney started her next shift of four straight days, the decorations would all be gone.
What was next?
Easter?
She couldn’t wait for the pastel egg and bunny decorations.
Not.
Delaney laughed at her own stupid joke, drawing in the gaze of the girl who worked at the station next to hers. She pretended not to notice the curious stare while she finished a second sweep around her chair. Keeping her conversations with coworkers at surface level never gave them the chance to feel like they could prob too deep with Delaney.
That place wasn’t safe.
Thankfully, the blown plug and lights had been fixed—whatever surge shorted the wires didn’t cause a problem now.
She stepped into the backroom to put the broom and dustpan away with the others, and returned to her workstation to find she had missed a call from Gracen after not responding to an earlier text because she’d been busy with a client. Nobody looked at her twice for sitting in the chair and making a personal call, not that their boss particularly cared. She didn’t have another client scheduled until after lunch, and since her most recent had finished fifteen minutes early, Delaney had lots of time to work with.
Or so she thought …
“It’s almost my lunchtime,” Delaney told Gracen when her best friend picked up on the second ring. “We’ve got to make a rule where you have to wait at least an hour before calling me when I don’t answer a text during work.”
Gracen didn’t miss a beat, not even bothering to say hello or deny that she often pulled the trigger on calling Delaney before she had a chance to answer anything back. “Your schedule is so weird, though.”
“Not untrue,” Delaney agreed.
“I wasn’t sure if you were working today or not. Sometimes, I mess it up.”
That was a lie.
She didn’t even bother to call Gracen on it when a simple question could clear it up for both of them.
“Didn’t I tell you my schedule for the next two weeks when we talked on—”
“I want to send you something, okay?” Gracen interjected.
Delaney’s brow flew high. “Like, in the mail?”
Gracen laughed. “No. A picture.”
“You want to send me a picture.”
Delaney didn’t pose the statement as a question because it wasn’t one. Pictures from Gracen weren’t anything unusual or new. Gracen sent Delaney pictures regularly throughout the week. It would be strange if she went a day without getting an update on something via a texted photo. It could be anything.
Of someone’s hair Gracen thought had turned out particularly well. Even her property and new woodworking and epoxy projects with her partner. Often, she sent pictures of her cat, Mister Kitty, doing absolutely nothing but looking cute. Personally, those were Delaney’s favorite of the bunch.
So, yeah.
Gracen sent Delaney pictures all the time, but she didn’t call to preface doing so. That was different.
“Yeah, in a few minutes,” Gracen clarified, a nervous edge trailing her laugh before she added, “I’ll text it to you, but I wanted to give you a warning first. Like a heads up so you weren’t thinking, what the fuck, Gracen? Do you know what I mean?”
Not particularly.
Delaney had missed something.
Clearly.
“This is weird, right?” Delaney asked. “It’s not just me—you’re being weird.”
The echo of Gracen’s loud laughter told Delaney something she hadn’t realized until that moment. Her friend had her on speakerphone. A lower, masculine chuckle, not quite in the background, confirmed her belief.
“Hi, Malachi,” Delaney said.
Gracen had yet to stop laughing.
“Hello to you, Delaney,” he returned. “And yes, she’s being—”
“I’m not being weird,” Gracen said before anyone could get a word in edgewise. “I’m getting tired of waiting, and I’ve convinced myself to hold back long enough hoping we could do it face to face, but it’s eating away at me here.”
“She does overthink it a lot,” Malachi confirmed. “The amount of times I’ve had to listen to her rant at me about whether or not she should just tell you … Just tell her, babe.”