Chapter 6Though his body wanted sleep, Sullivan’s brain refused to cooperate. He laid in the narrow bed and stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see, listening to silence he couldn’t block out. A clock sat on the nightstand, but he couldn’t see it without rising and taking it to the window where the moonlight peeked in around the edges of the curtains. It was late. Very late. That was all he needed to know.
Belle had retired without much fuss, giving him the handwritten list of chores she expected him to do to earn his keep. Most were simple tasks—maintaining the woodpile, some light cleaning, running errands—while others were more esoteric, like a daily run to a cemetery outside of town. He refused to admit he was looking forward to that. Belle might consider him too weird to keep around
