“Good.” David’s hand squeezed tighter on my shoulder, the same shoulder that had been sore all night, and pulled me to my feet. My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. In my chest, fire fluttered awake. “Now the kitchen, Billie. It needs a bit of a wipe down.”
“Okay.” I’d never allowed myself to feel so angry before. I used to be able to tamp it down, but red hot indignation came clawing up my throat and it took all I had to keep it behind my teeth. Waiting for David to leave was tortuous, but when he finally released my shoulder and stepped away, I raised my eyes again. I watched him close my bedroom door behind him. Then I wanted to throw the dirty plate at the door and break it, but my hands stayed firmly by my sides. I’d never do something like that. I’d never, but I wanted to.
