Chapter 87
A Lot of Faith He's Placing
The bus ride home felt too long. The envelope was in my bag, zipped up tight. It felt solid and comfortable against my ribs.
My hand stayed pressed over my dress pocket. I sat up too straight, watching every person who got on or off the bus. I looked at their reflections in the window, not their faces. I counted the stops. I counted my breaths.
When I finally reached my house complex, the familiar smell of my mother's stew drifted through the evening air and loosened something tight inside my chest. I unlocked the door, slipped in, and secured it behind me, deadbolt first, then the chain. Only then did I release the breath I'd been holding since Oak Lane.
I didn't stop in the kitchen.
