CHAPTER 11
So this is her work, Wyatt thought as he drove through the chain link security gates, Cams sitting tense beside him. He’d wanted to see what she did for years, but he wasn’t sure he’d wanted it like this. Anxiety radiated off Camille in waves. It took everything he had not to reach for her hand. He knew if he did, she’d crack.
It was almost eleven at night, but the half-finished building site was lit up like mid-day, illuminating dozens of new windows waiting to be installed, the bare bones of the roof trusses, and countless buckets of floor glue and caulking. Come morning, the workers could pick right up and continue on.
Or they could if they could actually get into the building. Someone had dumped a truckload of sand right at the building’s entrance, blocking it.
Wyatt loo
