Back in her kitchen in Texas, she took deep breaths and tried her best to regain her composure. Phil Tucker hadn’t been home either and she’d barely managed to contain the beast raging inside her on her return flight to DFW Airport. Her temper had finally overcome her self-control and she’d smashed very dish she owned right after she’d slammed her door and thrown her suitcase. Careful where you step, dumbass, her mind taunted as she moved to the pantry to pull out the broom and dustpan.
She swept up the jagged bits, only half paying attention, her system still surging from the adrenaline overdose the rage had released. Robotically she moved the broom back and forth, scooping broken pieces into the dustpan, dumping them into the trash, until at last the mess she’d made was gone.
Done acti
