Chapter 15
JonahShannon’s eyes fell to the floor, and I tried to think of a quip to bring her back from whatever melancholy reverie had overtaken her.
I squeezed the handle of my roller brush, pressing it hard into the rough texture of the wall. Tiny streams of paint slid down. I flicked the roller over them to prevent streaking.
The image of bleary-eyed drunks pawing at Shannon floated across my consciousness. They’d be men like her ex-husband, Wayne—violent and entitled. Even though they were out of her life, they left their imprint on her in the form of faint lines around her eyes and that wary look.
I said nothing.
We finished two coats of paint in her adjoined living and dining rooms before I made Shannon relax while I cleaned up. I rinsed the brushes out in the utility sink in t
