Chapter 8
Brent dropped his own f-bomb. Not because Derek was back, or because he was going to have to clean white wine from half the surfaces in the kitchen, but because Derek’s return meant that the schedule for the rest of Brent’s day, and probably the schedule for many days in the future, were going to be hopelessly wrecked.
“Let’s go. I’ll drive,” he said, gently removing the broken wine bottle from Charity’s grasp and tossing it into the garbage. “You’re not going over there alone.”
“Samantha says he’s already gone.”
“Still, better to be safe than sorry. We’ll make sure and I’ll drop you off. Text me later and I’ll come pick you up.”
Charity nodded, rinsing off the spilled wine then drying her hand, slipping on some shoes, and grabbing her purse.
They drove to Samantha’s apartm
