Chapter 12
Glancing down at my disheveled appearance, I couldn't help but chuckle as I waved Kindle into the kitchen, where the walls had once been adorned with faded wallpaper peeling at the edges.
Kindle raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Uh-huh, is this some kind of anger management session?"
I laughed. "Something like that."
As I studied her, I realized it was too early for her to be off work and I motioned towards the trailer, pointing vaguely. "Let's grab something to drink and you can fill me in on why you're off work."
A few minutes later, we found ourselves in the trailer’s kitchen. The sound of running water filled the air as I washed my hands, while Kindle made her way to the refrigerator. Peering into its depths, she scrutinized the contents before retrieving a pitcher of freshly brewed tea. Placing it on the counter, she retrieved two glasses from the cabinet, filling them both with ice and pouring the amber liquid.
After generously adding sugar to both, she handed one to me. I had met Kindle when I first joined the agency, and over time, our friendship had blossomed. Yet, despite our closeness, she remained a mystery when it came to the pain that haunted her eyes. Just as I kept my own demons hidden. I knew that Brett Masters, a member of an elite unit within the FBI played a role in her anguish, but she’d never told me much about her past.
Kindle pulled out a chair and sat down, lifting the glass to her lips, the clinking of ice echoing softly, before she took a deep sip and placed it back on the table. I took a seat across from her, my fingers tracing the condensation on my glass as I took a sip of the sweet, refreshing tea. I stared at her intently, my curiosity piqued. "So, spill it. What's going on?"
Kindle simply shrugged, a hint of frustration in her expression. "Brett being his usual infuriating self, nothing out of the ordinary." Afterward, jerking out of her chair, she knocked it over; her agitation visible.
Thurston, had been winding around my ankles while we’d been talking. However, when the chair landed with a loud smack on the floor, he let out a shriek and shot across the room.
Now, hiding in a corner, he smoothed his ruffled fur, all the while shooting daggers in Kindle’s direction.
“Okay, what happened?” I asked, my run-ins with Ethan, allowed me to sympathize with her feelings.
Kindle wandered her way over to the counter that still held the now warming tea pitcher and refilled her glass. Waving the pitcher in my direction, she silently asked if I needed a refill. When I shook my head no, she placed it in the refrigerator.
Returning to the table, she righted her chair and plopped back down on it. After a few seconds, she picked up where she’d left off in the conversation, “The same ole same ole, just being his usual aggravating self. Oh, and FYI, Brett was acting like an angel compared to Ethan.”
As my eyes rounded, she paused, taking a sip of tea. Setting the glass down, she continued her story. “When I left, everyone was drawing straws to see who would get the pleasure of knocking him the fuck out. Anyway, from what I could deduce, Ethan’s hella mood had something to do with you.”
I’d been taking a drink of tea and had almost drowned Kindle when I’d spewed the liquid all over her at her words.
“What?” I gasped.
With my eyes fixed on Kindle's face, I could feel the heat radiating from her as my curiosity grew. Her hot pink painted fingernail glided across her lips, before, flicking off the moisture, she nonchalantly shrugged. "You tell me. He stormed in today, already in a temper. And when you still hadn't shown up by mid-morning, he was snapping and snarling at anyone who dared approach him. Eventually, he turned his black mood towards me. I swear, he could have incinerated the entire lab when I told him I couldn't retrieve any prints for the Aikins case. But that was just a minor factor in what's really bothering him, girlfriend. He's got a serious bee in his bonnet, and her name is Nicole. Haven't you noticed how he's been walking around, practically on fire for you? I've known that man my whole life, and I've never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. I'm not kidding, Nicole. That man wants to devour you."
Kindle's words snapped me out of my thoughts, causing my heart to skip a beat before sinking into a defeated rhythm. After last night's encounter, I was probably already off his radar. However, hope never truly dies. "Even if he desires me, what does it matter? He's married. Have you forgotten about that huge obstacle?"
Kindle snorted dismissively. "Honey, that's just a facade."
I gasped, stunned by her revelation. "What the hell do you mean?"
Kindle raised her perfectly arched eyebrow, her gaze fixed upon me. The lighting in the room highlighted the skepticism in her widened eyes. "I mean, as in, it's not a *real* marriage. Never has been," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief I hadn’t known.
"He came over yesterday evening. Things kind of, um, got a little hot between us," I confessed, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks. "After having put me into a nuclear meltdown, he hauled ass out of here, leaving us both hot and unsatisfied."
Kindle's narrowed eyes studied me intently, her piercing gaze almost tangible.
I shrugged, the weight of confusion settling on me. "Under the circumstances of him being my boss, I guess it was for the best. Confused the shit out of me, though."
Her contemplative gaze held mine for several seconds before she broke the silence. "What do you say we get our asses out of here for a while?" she suggested, a hint of excitement in her voice.
By eleven that night, my chocolate-colored hair had been expertly trimmed and highlighted, the soft strands falling gracefully around my face. The faint scent of fresh nail polish lingered in the air, a reminder of the luxurious manicure and pedicure we had both indulged in. The bathroom counter was now adorned with an array of facial products, each promising a battle against aging. My bed was adorned with a dozen pairs of new shoes, their pristine boxes stacked neatly. Nestled among them were two-dozen bags, each filled with secrets. Amongst them, six bags contained nothing but Victoria's Secret lingerie, a promise of seduction.
Feeling the exhaustion settle in, I decided it was too much effort to put everything away. Instead, I grabbed a pillow from beneath a shopping bag and made my way to the couch. Its plush cushions enveloped me as I settled down, the softness providing comfort. I pulled the cozy afghan from its resting place on the back of the couch, draping it across my body for warmth. In the midst of my troubled sleep, I vaguely registered Thurston curling up beside me.