<b>Chapter </b>199
I was about to break the silence with something to ease the tension, but Michelle’s voice trembled again, “It’s Thea who’s doing this to Peter. Because of her, I can never ept her.”
Michelle’s words, full of anger, were unlike anything I had ever heard from her. It sent a chill down my spine.
There was nothing more I could say.
“Zoe,” Michelle said softly, “Pleasee by to see Peter whenever you can. Only you can ease his heart.”
The pressure of her words weighed heavily on me, but I still agreed. After hanging up, I copsed back into the car
seat, feeling like something was pressing down on me, making it hard to move or breathe.
When I got home, I curled up on the couch, quietly sorting through everything in my mind.
Everything pointed toward Brannon, but his ties to Peter through business dealings and the suspiciously tight security at his rehabilitation center only made things moreplicated.
If there was nothing to hide, why go to such lengths to keep it all secret? The more I tried to figure it out, the more
my mind spiraled, and the pain in my head intensified.
I grabbed a pillow and pressed my face into it, trying to block everything out.
It was how I usually dealt with overwhelming thoughts. Just as the weight of it all felt like it might suffocate me, a
knock at the door broke through the tension.
At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but then I heard someone call my name.
I pulled the pillow away and got up, heading for the door.
Even though it was broad daylight, I was still cautious. Before opening the door, I asked, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Josh.”
The answer threw me off. I thought, ‘Why was Josh here? Did something else happen again?”
I opened the door to find him standing there, wearing a ck t–shirt and cargo pants, looking perfect, as always,
<i>“</i>What are you doing here?” I asked, still in a bit of a daze.
Before I could say anything else, I felt his warm and steady hand on my forehead, offering a sense of security hadn’t expected.
“I’m fine now. No fever,” Josh said/lifting the <b>bag </b>in his hand.
It was filled with fresh groceries, the leafy greens indicating they were just bought.
“I was thinking of making some oatmeal, grilled chicken sd for lunch. How does that sound?” Josh asked,
<b>1/2 </b>
sounding like the most considerate husband.
I started to protest. “You don’t need to go through all that trouble. I’ll just order something.”
Before I could finish, Josh cut me off. “You shouldn’t eat anything too greasy right now.”
<b>33</b>%
I wasn’t sure how Josh managed to get inside, but by the time I returned to reality, he was already in the kitchen,
busy with something.
As the saying goes, “You can’t bite the hand that feeds you.”
I’d already epted enough from him, so I didn’t bother being overly polite. I grabbed a ss of water and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, watching him move around in his apron, busy chopping vegetables.
“You’re free today? Finished with the amusement park work?” I asked.
“Almost done,” he replied, skillfully chopping the vegetables. I didn’t need to look at what he was cutting–just the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board told me he knew what he was doing.
“Let me know when it’s all done,” I added.
Josh nodded, and as I sipped water, my gaze lingered on him, taking in every detail.
How striking he looked–handsome from every angle, with a narrow waist and broad hips–making it hard not to let my mind wander.
I focused on the mole at the back of his neck to keep myself from thinking I shouldn’t. “Josh, we didn’t talk on the phone today, did we?”
“No,” he confirmed.
I pursed my lips. “Then how did you know I was home?”
This was something I hadn’t told him, and I certainly hadn’t mentioned it to Myra either. But here he was, knocking on my door and bringing vegetables. He must have known I was home.
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