Three nights back to back at the bar proved to be too much for Indy. Spending her days painting Quinn’s house added to the exhaustion. She enjoyed the mindless work of painting. No one needed her attention and she didn’t have to remember anything. She could think.
The bar gave her time so she didn’t have to think. She couldn’t recall a time she’d ever felt so overwhelmed by life. Griffin had called and left brief messages. She couldn’t deal with him right now.
She grabbed her keys and headed for the door to work her last shift for the next two days when the bell rang. She swung the door open and saw Richard.
“Hi. I got your message. Can I come in?”
She wanted to slam the door on his impossibly huge grin, but she widened the opening. “You can’t stay long; I’m on my way to work.”
“You’r
