Free Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) by Jodi Watters Page B

Knew when the longtime owners of the butternut yellow Mission Revival over on Albatross Street hung new draperies in every room on the second floor. She knew when one went up for sale and how long it was on the market, monitoring the listing weekly and yearning for the day when she could afford to buy one. The fulfillment of a promise she’d made long before she knew the word mortgage .
    Back in the day, when it wasn’t considered child abuse to ride in a car with no air-conditioning to speak of on a humid summer day—without your seatbelt buckled—she and her mom would drive through this neighborhood on their way home from Sunday church service. Their fifteen-year-old hatchback stood out like a sore thumb in the prestigious subdivision and if the sight of an oxidized, denim blue Ford Escort coughing out white exhaust didn’t get you noticed, then the sound of a rusted out muffler sure could. But back then, Hope didn’t care. She wasn’t old enough to notice the odd looks thrown their way or the nicer, newer cars parked along the curb. And even though the cracked vinyl seat was hot on her bare legs and would leave a biting indentation on her skin that stuck around long after the ride was over, it didn’t matter. Awed by wide concrete driveways with hopscotch patterns drawn in colored chalk, basketball hoops mounted above garage doors, and ten-speed bikes propped on kickstands, Hope would absorb it all with a pit in her stomach that only an adult would recognize as jealousy. Her eyes would widen with wonder at the brick sidewalks leading to bright white porches, where hanging baskets overflowed with red geraniums and rocking chairs sat empty as families chose to relax on the wide front steps instead. Wreaths with pretty ribbons would hang on the front doors and Hope couldn’t even imagine how much happiness must lay on the other side of them, but she was sure it was as big as the sky.
    And that Mommy’s and Daddy’s and brother’s and sister’s were all together, and nobody ever had to stay inside by themselves, in a room above the garage where it was stuffy and scary and lonely. All while the others laughed and ate chocolate cake.
    Hope smiled sadly, shaking her head at the silly memory, wondering how the hell she’d ever been so damn naïve. Some guy was probably smacking his wife around right now, in the house down the street. Or sneaking a laptop into the hall bathroom, locking the door behind him so he could jerk off to Asian porn while his clueless wife slept in a cotton nightgown covering her from neck to ankle. Or maybe she knew exactly what her husband was doing and waited for him to leave their bed so she could grab her phone and secretly sext with her tennis instructor, horning in on the much younger man before her slutty friend Rhonda could dig her fake, french manicured nails into him first. These hundred-year-old houses probably held family secrets that could peel the lead based paint right off their plastered walls.
    Her phone rang unexpectedly, interrupting her ridiculous musings. The chime was alarmingly loud over the quiet sounds of the night, heightening her risk of exposure.
    “Shit!” Whispering the curse, she fumbled for the device and silenced the bells, answering before every dog on the block started barking. “Hey, it’s late. You should be wearing a sleep mask and sawing logs by now.”
    Val clicked his tongue, sounding put out. “Well, you see, I’ve got this friend who likes to keep me up at night, fretting and sick with worry. I’m like a wacked out mother hen who needs vodka and anti-depressants to deal with her unruly little chick.”
    “You like vodka and anti-depressants.”
    “That’s beside the point,” he replied immediately, with an indignant huff. “You’re supposed to call and let me know you’re okay. That some crazy, titty-obsessed pervert didn’t abduct you and... and... I don’t know! Titty fuck you until you lost consciousness or something.”
    She