Page 45 of Broken Halo
My back hurts from choppin those mums yesterday.
But the sun is shining and Easton is coming for dinner. Between him and Ellie, I feel like I’m living a double life.
Living a double life? She sure as hell was. I don’t know whether to be pissed at my mother or drop to my knees and thank her for keeping Ellie close.
One thing I’m not going to do is start cleaning this room. Ellie stalked out of my office around five-thirty tonight and swore she won’t see me until her court hearing next week. That was three hours ago.
She was mistaken.
* * *
After typing in the due date that never was, I pull through the gates of Ellie’s neighborhood and decide to be grateful she hasn’t changed the code yet.
We’re in the middle of a surprisingly-warm spring for Texas and it’s not even cooling off when the sun sets. I haven’t had time to go home and change so I roll my sleeves as I search for my patience because, at this point, I don’t even have a fifty-fifty chance of her opening the door. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s home and I’m not quite pathetic enough to call her sister. Yet. Plus, I don’t need my boss in the middle of my personal life, even though it seems she knows more about it than I do, which irritates me further.
I pull through her circle drive and I’m almost to her front door when I get a text.
Ellie: Dammit, I see you on my surveillance video. I thought we agreed to only meet with Jen.
I have nothing to say to that so I’m just going to ignore it.
Me: Open the door.
Ellie: Just as charming as ever.
At least every other word isn’t fuck. I’m going to take that as she really wants me here, she just doesn’t know it yet.
Me: Open the door. You won’t regret it.
Ellie: Go the fuck away.
Well.
Moving on.
Me: I have something for you.
Ellie: I don’t want anything from you.
Me: It was my mother’s.
I get nothing, but I can tell she’s typing.
Me: Open the door.
Me: Dammit, Ellie.
I get nothing and the bubbles go away.
Me: Give me five minutes.
Nothing.
Me: For my mother.
I immediately hear the lock and the heavy door swings open. She’s still wearing the same dress and if a bra could make a person jealous, this one is doing the job—clinging to her fair skin in a way my fingers are burning to. Her hair is messier than earlier, which looks even better on her.
Her expression, on the other hand, is pissed. “How dare you use your mother to bribe me.”
