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Dirty Secret

Dirty Secret

Description : Dirty Secret

“Ouch! Shit!”

I jump back from the car and flap my hand around. My finger stings like hell—and when I look at it, I see why.

Breaking a nail lifting a suitcase. That figures. Just another reason whying back to Shelton Bay is a mistake. If I’d stayed in Charlotte, at least all ten of my nails would still be intact.

I suck on my finger to soothe the sting and glance through the back window of the car. Mila’s still asleep, thankfully. If she was awake and caught me cussing there’s no doubt she’d be shouting, “Mama! Bad!” and following it up with a few excited rounds of the bad word.

I breathe a sigh of relief and move back to the trunk. I give the offending suitcase one last tug and it flies out of the car. The gravel crunches as it hits the floor, and I jump to the side. Fucking shit. Mondays suck.

Never, ever move on a Monday. Especially not back to the place you ran from in the first place.

I pull the envelope the lawyer gave me out of the glove box and dig for the key. I find it hiding between the creased papers, and with another glance at Mila in the backseat, I walk to the front door.

I hesitate, taking a deep breath in. I haven’t been to this house for two and a half years, much less been inside it. I have no idea what state it’s in since Dad died eight months ago.

I just know that I’ve put this off as long as humanly possible.

My hands are shaking as I shove the key in the door and turn it, and I swallow hard. The door creaks as I push against it, the sound almost ominous. My gut tells me to run because, holy shit, there could be all kinds of zombies and crap in here waiting for me!

Thankfully, my brain is more rational and tells me to step inside, and that I clearly need to lay off The Walking Dead.