I reapply lipstick at my desk.

“You ready for that talk?”

I glance up at Mr. Kane, and reach for the second drawer of my desk. “I sure am.”

He blinks at my confidence.

Unusual I know.

But I found something today I’ve been missing.

I found me.

The me I’d buried under a decade of shame. Lost under the weight of consequences for my actions.

Yes, it was my fault I’d wanted to be fucked in Jeramiah’s work room where Michael had been apprenticing.

All on me, that nothing had ever turned me on, the way doing that right under his strict, judgmental nose had.

But I’ve punished myself enough.

I follow Mr. Kane into his office and close the door behind me.

“Abigail—”

“Gabriella.” I smile, and face him on the other side of his desk. “Which you know well.”

He sits, almost missing his seat. “What is going on with you today?”

“Everything.” I smile wider, open up the file, and withdraw the paperwork. “I’d appreciated it if you could please sign for my overtime.”

His eyes narrow. “Leave it on my desk and I’ll look at it when I have time.”

I place a palm on the wood desk top and reach for his pen holder, plucking out the overpriced black one that is his preferred writing implement. “It’ll be better for everyone if you just do it now.”

I click the top and hold out the pen.

He glances at the pen then me. “You should start collecting your things. You’re fired.”

“We’ll just say I quit.” I place the pen down in front of him, and then the forms. “Just like I’ll say nothing about this…”

I take the remaining paperwork from the folder and present it to him.

He takes the papers, then sinks back in his chair.

His jaw pulses and his eyes stretch so wide his sockets bulge.

Honestly, I’ve been practically wiping his backside all this time. Did he think I’d miss the embezzling?

His gaze snaps to mine. “This is extortion.”

“No, extortion would be if I asked you for something that wasn’t mine to begin with.”

I straighten.

His gaze flicks across mine and he makes a grunting sound, then collects the pen, and signs, jamming the pen into the paper at the end of his signature.

“Thank you.” I smile again, and collect the paperwork. I’ll be taking them to HR myself that’s for damn sure. “Good day, Mr. Kane.”

I nod, and leave his godforsaken office forever.

I pull up to the curb, yanking on the parking break with a shaking hand. It’s like standing in the middle of a parted sea being here. My former home, or residence rather, on one side—and Michaels house, my sanctuary on the other.

I take a breath on top of a breath.

Yes, it’s like standing in the middle of a parted sea, and feeling like at any moment all that water, and all those waves are going to come crashing down.

And crush me.

I close my eyes, then open them. But one of these places, is just a house now.

Empty.

I withdraw the envelope from my hand bag and open it, then tip the key into my palm. It’s cold and smells like metal.

It’s been waiting hidden at the bottom of my wardrobe for three years. And I’m still just as shocked that Jeramiah left a sinner like me all his worldly possessions.

But then he’d shocked me before.

Like when he kept me around after Mom passed.

I’d been sure I was up for a round in the system.

I get out of the car and make my way to the pavement in front of the house, and rotate the key in my hand. Shit. My neglect shows. The paint peels from weatherboards like dead skin, and there’s a grey dereliction hanging over the place like a cloud.

I don’t need to go in.

I look up at the window that used to be mine. It’s nearly lost behind overgrown branches now. My chest tightens. I spent a lot of time kneeling on salt, praying for absolution at that window.

Not that any amount of praying seemed to convince Jeramiah I was good enough.

A smirk tweaks my mouth.

But then I never was.

I spent more time than I ever spent praying, climbing out that window, and down that tree, and sneaking across the road.

“I’ve been wondering when our neighbor would be coming home.” The rich rumbling voice shivers down my spine and lifts the hair at the back of my neck.

“This isn’t home.” I spin around and the sight of him—now that’s a worthy homecoming. My hands want to fist in his shirt, and my head to bury in his chest. “I’m selling.”

His lips pinch, and his hand runs over his beard. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” I push hair out of my face. “I’m hoping they’ll tear it down and build two places.”

His hand falls from his face and I know he’s two seconds away from grabbing me. When he left my work today, it was with a warning that he wouldn’t be giving up. He’d be back, and back, and back for me until I gave in.

I just saved him the commute.

“But…” I finally give in to the pull, and place my hand on his chest. “I’ve always been partial to the place across the road.”

He grabs the top of my arms. His chest heaves under my palm. “Then you’re in fucking luck.”

I laugh. “I am.”

“You’d better have brought your stuff or you’ll be wearing these clothes for a while.” He hauls me closer, gaze eating me alive, before hauls me over his shoulder and carries me home.