Chapter Eleven
Leah didn’t emerge until the following morning. The bags under her eyes and sloth-like movements suggested she hadn’t slept much better than I had. The way she manhandled the coffeemaker confirmed it, slamming the weathered carafe into position as she impatiently jabbed at the buttons, forcing the machine to gurgle to life.
“Sorry,” she murmured, noting my wince, while tugging at the ends of her hair. “I wasn’t angry at you last night. I was…am mad about the situation.”
I nodded, gesturing for her to proceed. With Leah, there was always more to the story. And I wanted her to put it out there. To get it off her chest. To set the bad juju free. But mostly, I wanted to confirm we were still on the same page and on the same side of this…thing…whatever it was.
I had given her
