Free Love Starts with Elle by Rachel Hauck Page A

his throat. “Well, best get going. See you, Elle.”
    “See you.” She couldn’t look around at him. Had he seen the contents of the box? If so, did he understand?
    Chuck and Heath’s voices faded as they walked toward the FedEx truck. In the next minute, the engine fired up, reverse whining as Chuck backed out the drive.
    Elle stood, cradling the box in her arms, trembling. Is he breaking up with me? The thought made her queasy.
    Heath called the girls. “How about ice cream?”
    Yelling their agreement, they darted across the yard. Elle heard the doors open, then close.
    I don’t get it? Why . . . Her thoughts raced over the last few days. They’d agreed on a house, putting in for the loan. Jeremiah asked for her financials, which Daddy, her accountant, was gathering.
    Heath’s shadow fell over hers. “I have the feeling Chuck didn’t bring something pleasant.”
    She shook her head.
    “I’m sorry. Can I help in any way?”
    “No, but thank you.”
    “I’m taking Rio with me.” Heath waited, then backed away. “Be back soon.”
    It was hard to speak. Elle felt like any breath, any word or movement would be the thread that unraveled her. She felt numb and on fire at the same time.
    Hearing Heath pull away, she started for the studio steps, her emotions beginning to boil. She burst inside, threw the box to the table, and yanked her cell phone from the top of her bag.
    Jeremiah Franklin better answer this call.

SEVEN
    On the loft floor of what used to be GG Gallery, Elle sat with her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her calves. The men working on Angela Dooley’s remodel had stood aside when Elle barged in like a wounded animal and bounded up to the second level.
    “Don’t mind me,” she’d told them, her voice hollow to her own ears.
    “Hey, you can’t come in here. This is a construction site.”
    “Leave her alone, Frank. Elle, you okay?”
    “Fine, Gilly. Just peachy.” Why she wanted to be at the gallery— or what used to be her gallery—Elle didn’t know, but she climbed to the loft and huddled on the floor, the darkness comforting her.
    Jeremiah didn’t answer her initial call, nor the two dozen after. God, what is going on? Hopelessness locked on and Elle let her tears slip free. “What did I ever do to him?”
    Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, feeling the grit of the construction mess grinding her skin, she’d dialed Jeremiah again and was rewarded for the twentieth time with his stupid, tired, recorded message. “You’ve reached Jeremiah Franklin, senior pastor at 3:16 Metro Church. I’m not available . . .”
    Elle pressed End, her jaw tight. “You’re never available.”
    Waiting for him to call in between all of her autodialing, Elle tried to fathom her relationship with Jeremiah coming to this. The enticing, electric sensations he’d created in her belly when he kissed her and slipped his fingers along the edge of temptation were distant and cold.
    Drawing in a big gulp of warm, dusty loft air, Elle tried to make sense of it all. Was it Dallas and the big church? Was it her? Him? Did they not know each other as well as they pretended?
    Why won’t you call me back? She resisted the urge to smash her phone against the wall.
    The last glow of daylight had slipped away from the store’s pane window, leaving Elle completely in the dark when her phone finally rang.
    “I’m in a meeting and my phone won’t stop vibrating,” he said without hello, without saying her name.
    A string of blue words, many of which Elle had never uttered before in her life, flowed from her soul. “Then get out of the meeting.”
    “I told you I’d call later.”
    “The box came.” Flat, honest confession.
    Silence, followed by a heavy blast of air. “It wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow or later.”
    “Darn the efficiency of those FedEx boys.” Her wounds dripped sarcasm.
    Silence again. “It’s not going to work, Elle.”
    Her tense muscles kept her from