Inside Out - Lauren Dane [12]
The front doors into the small lobby squeaked when she managed to get the lock unstuck. She jingled her keys, balancing the bag of leftovers as she headed inside. Choosing to avoid the ancient elevator, she took the stairs to the third floor, walking the long hall, loving the creaks in the ancient hardwoods and the curves of the often-painted ceilings and doorways. This had been a home in the months after the attack. The walls; the faded, once-glorious carpets in the lobby; the temperamental lock on the front doors.
Two very sturdy locks unlocked, and her door swung open. She checked the entry automatically, still unwilling to say out loud that she lined up her desk chair in the way just to see if it had been moved. Despite feeling stupid, she put the bag down and locked up, including two additional inner locks. And put the chair back.
It was almost like a tic; she felt safe in the building and in her apartment. She knew her chances of being attacked again were very small, and Bill was doing time. She knew these things and slept well at night most of the time. But still, she found herself putting that chair in the hall.
After changing into fluffy sweats and washing her face, she headed to her bed where her tea and a few cookies awaited in the little alcove she pretended was the same as a bedroom. She considered writing in her journal but stared off into space for a while instead.
As she settled back and sipped the tea, her gaze moved around the room. A framed picture sat on the small table in the corner. Taken just two weeks before at a picnic in Brody and Elise’s backyard. Brody and Elise, two of her favorite people. That weekend, those two wonderful people were having an engagement shindig of sorts, hosted by Brody’s brother Adrian.
Elise was as tenacious as Erin was, and friendship with the woman had been inevitable. She’d been in the periphery of the group, though she’d been invited many times. Had watched Brody fall in love, had watched Elise become part of his life, of his family, and when Elise noticed Ella, Elise had simply been Elise. She’d reached out and in doing so had become her closest friend. Elise and Erin, she’d let in, had felt understood in a way she rarely felt with others.
As if she’d been summoned, Elise’s text buzzed across the screen of Ella’s phone. Call me if you’re awake!
Yes, a phone conversation with Elise would be a good thing. She dialed in the number, and Brody answered, making her smile.
“Hey there, Ella. You looking for my missus?”
“Yes, please.”
“While I watch my lovely lady hop around and jiggle, I’m going to continue to keep you long enough to ask how your hip is doing.” He’d nearly finished the tattoo she’d been getting in bits and pieces over the last year and a half. Each new achievement, and he’d add another piece. For a time it had been her secret. Only Brody knew about it. But after a while, she’d told Erin and then Elise. He’d just completed the last major part a few days before, roots and some drifting blossoms at her hip.
Her first tattoo had been small, a silly little four-leaf clover he’d done on her inner arm, near the elbow. Something about it had filled a need inside, the need to mark her progress in an indelible way. It’s how she’d truly gotten to know Brody. He’d always been her boss’s older brother, friendly, but it never went very deep. He was good at his job, good at listening, and over time she’d poured out her story to him.
She understood, totally, why Elise adored him, why her daughter, Rennie, now their daughter, lit up every time Brody came into a room. There were very few men in the universe who could hold a candle to him.
“Good. Soreness is mostly gone, and now it itches.”
“Coming along then. If you need me to, I’ll check it for you.”
“Aw, thanks. But I think you might have more things on your mind than looking at a healing tattoo. You ready for the engagement party on Saturday?”
“I’ve been ready to marry Elise for a long time now. I’m just annoyed I have to wait another few months.”
She heard the smile in his voice and smiled herself. They