Free Finding Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 1) by Marcy Blesy

finish my sentence, kissing me firmly, the kind of kiss that leaves you needing air but wishing the sensation would pass so the kiss wouldn’t have to stop. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. The skin on the top of my chest rubs against his t-shirt, and I feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. This isn’t right. This isn’t good . Good things don’t happen at Tremont Lodge.
    “I have to go,” I say, moving away from Finn and slipping into my room before he has a chance to stop me.

Chapter 8:
    Tinley’s eye looks better this morning. She could probably fool most people with her newly concocted story that she slipped and fell down the dormitory stairs on her way to work, but Helen won’t buy it. First, she’s wearing giant sunglasses to hide a supposed bug bite reaction. Now, this. No way, but that will be a battle Tinley will have to fight on her own.
    I take my wedge sandals which Bree handed back to me in the elevator this morning, and stuff them under the clean towels on the bottom of my cleaning cart. She was whistling Happy this morning. I guess she had a good night.
    I open the door to my fifth room of the morning and slip on a new pair of gloves. This is a kid room, meaning that there isn’t a clear place anywhere that isn’t littered with something related to children: sippy cups, portable cribs (two, in fact), diaper bags, dirty, smelly diapers spilling out of the garbage can in the bedroom and the bathroom, and enough Cheerios to lead Hansel and Gretel back down the path and out of the forest. It’s still better than cleaning Lawson’s filth. Watching Good Morning America provides a nice background canvas while I work.
    “Reese, how’s it going today?” asks Helen, as she wanders into the room, newly vacuumed and smelling much fresher already with the new garbage bags. And with no Cheerio in sight.
    “It’s good, Helen,” I say.
    “I know you’ve been here a week now. Are you homesick at all? It’s quite normal, many of my girls feel this way.”
    “No, Helen. I’m not homesick.” Well, unless you count being sick for the home you’ll never know.
    “Good. I’ve heard wonderful things about the work you’re doing. Mr. Oakley says he’s never had his room so clean from summer help in the years he’s been here.” I roll my eyes. “Now, don’t be disrespectful, Reese. I’m giving you a compliment.”
    “Sorry, Helen. Thanks for that and all, but it’s really the source that kind of makes me sick.”
    “Lawson’s not so bad when you get to know him. He’s grown up a lot since he started coming here when he was a little boy.”
    “Helen, have you seen that guy’s room?”
    “Well, that’s why I don’t clean it myself, I guess.” She laughs and straightens the shampoos and lotions on my cart. “What about Tinley?” I bite the inside of my cheek because keeping Tinley’s secrets is difficult. “She’s having a rough time, huh?”
    “I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask her.” Helen nods her head and looks like there’s much more she wants to say. She refolds the towel on top of the cart.
    “Let me know if you girls need anything— anything. ” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she shuffles back into the hallway, and for a second I wonder if that’s what it’s like to have unconditional love from a parent. It’s not that my grandparents didn’t love Blake and me, but they put up a wall that couldn’t be knocked down—no matter how hard we tried. Our basic needs were met. That was never a question, but the emotional support we craved was sorely lacking. I just hope Blake doesn’t remember all of the nights he cried himself to sleep after we moved in with our grandparents and how I’d bury my own tears in my pillow so he wouldn’t see me cry, too. Sure, he may have been a tiny baby, but you can’t tell me that kid didn’t sense a major shift in the course of his life.
    Tinley is folding sheets in the laundry room on the ninth floor