Free 9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog by JB Lynn Page B

her assumption as I regained my balance. "Oh no. Not at all."
    "Not at all?" She asked gently. "He is a good-looking fellow, who isn’t without his charms."
    I couldn’t argue with her. I also couldn’t tell her that Zeke was a conman. Somehow I didn’t think that would make him the ideal mate for me in her book.
    "And he cares about you."
    "And I care about him," I said, settling into a lawn chair, "but not that way."
    Susan sat in the chair beside me. "I worry you’ll end up alone."
    Thinking that between Zeke, Patrick, and Jack I could barely get a moment to myself, I chuckled. "I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon."
    Susan sighed. "I know it’s a big adjustment living here after having your own place."
    "It’s not that bad," I assured her.
    "This wasn’t what was supposed to happen." The bitterness in my aunt’s tone caught me by surprise.
    I twisted in my seat, trying to get a better look at her face, but she was cloaked in shadow. "It’s not the most ideal situation," I admitted carefully.
    "It’s all Bob’s fault." Susan spat the words out like they were a curse.
    "I’m not following," I admitted, thoroughly confused.
    "You were supposed to be there." She pointed at a spot in the rear of the yard where the barn used to be. It hadn’t really been a barn, but it’s what my sisters and I had always called the large, red building.
    It wasn’t there anymore, having been demolished in order for a place to be built for me to live with Katie. A place that had never materialized.
    I was never sure why the plan had seemingly evaporated, but with everything else I’d had going on, I hadn’t asked. It had seemed more prudent to hide behind a curtain of chosen ignorance than to deal with whatever problem had occurred.
    In doing so, I hadn’t taken into the consideration that my aunts might not appreciate me being underfoot (literally, since I was living in the basement).
    "I could move to Theresa’s old place," I offered. "Katie might be more comfortable there."
    "You can’t."
    "Why not?"
    "It’s been rented to someone else."
    "What do you mean 'it’s been rented to someone else?'" My voice squeaked with outrage. I’d never liked the place, but it had been the home where my sister had chosen to raise her daughter.
    Susan folded her hands in her lap. When she spoke, it was slowly as though she chose every word with care. "Theresa and Dirk were three months behind on their rent when the accident occurred."
    "Rent?" I asked. "I thought they owned it."
    Susan shook her head. "The landlord had already begun eviction proceedings."
    "How did I not know about this?"
    "You were living your own life and you thought your big sister could do no wrong."
    "No," I spat out, a childhood’s worth of never measuring up to Theresa spilling off my tongue like a dam had broken. "You’re the one who acted like she was perfect."
    Susan bowed her head. "Is that what you remember?"
    I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing I hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t proud of the fact I’d been jealous of Theresa and her "perfect" life. It was petty of me now, when she was gone, to begrudge her the advantages she’d had.
    "We made too much of a fuss over her," Susan admitted sadly.
    "She was the oldest," I excused automatically. "Of course you spoiled her."
    Susan shook her head slowly from side-to-side.
    My stomach flip-flopped as I remembered the trees at the family gravesite. A tree planted for each child. Five trees, but as far as I knew, I only had three sisters. Was Susan denying the fact that Theresa was the firstborn?
    Before I could ask, Susan let out a shuddering sob that tore at my heart.
    Instinctively, I leapt up and wrapped my arms around her shaking shoulders. "It’s okay," I murmured, even though I wasn’t quite sure what was wrong. "It’s okay."
    "She was so much like your mother," Susan whispered. "We were afraid."
    "You were afraid of Theresa?" I asked, confused.
    "Afraid she’d turn out like