Full Contact. Tara Quinn Taylor
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“Me, too, for Josh’s sake.”
“Not for yours?”
Ellen shrugged. “Not so much. By the time Aaron left, our divorce was almost a relief.”
He didn’t ask any more. But she could see the questions in his gaze. The battle raging inside her—run, get away, protect, protect, protect! on one side and you need help, you’ll be imprisoned for life, you’ll never be normal! on the other—was overwhelming her. She couldn’t hear either side clearly.
But she could picture her son’s face.
“Do you have time to take a drive with me?” She was losing it. She couldn’t be doing this. Couldn’t be contemplating opening up any more to this man.
She had to do something.
“In your car?”
“Yeah. I drive or we don’t go.”
“I have no problem with that.”
She did, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She lived life. She didn’t run from it.
CHAPTER SIX
JAY HAD NO IDEA WHAT, specifically, was going on. But he knew it was significant. In her jeans, Ellen looked about eighteen behind the wheel of her mini SUV as she drove beyond the city limits and approached the highway entrance ramp. He glanced at the steely set of her chin.
From there he watched the road. And waited.
Past the ramp, she turned into a parking lot full of potholes and in need of repair. He’d ridden by the seedy-looking motel turned studio apartment rentals any number of times. At least fifty years old, the place had clearly seen better days, and he had thought it closed before he’d seen a car parked outside one of the rooms earlier in the week.
Judging by the way she drove in without hesitation, Ellen had been there before. She pulled up in front of door fourteen, then put the Escape in Park.
Surely she didn’t live here?
Even if she did, she wouldn’t be taking him inside. The car was still running.
“How much time do you have to talk?”
The question wasn’t what he’d been anticipating. At the least, he’d expected an explanation of why they were here. The trashy place with its peeling paint and filthy windows wasn’t the setting he’d pictured for the intimate conversation he’d been hoping to have.
“A couple of hours. I’ve got a client at two.” In Phoenix. Because work would initially be slow in Shelter Valley, Shawna had asked if he would be willing to do a few sessions in Phoenix. He was using the space of another medical massage therapist who didn’t work weekends.
But right now, Ellen was all that mattered to him.
“I had the perfect life growing up,” she said. “Parents who loved me. A safe town where people care about each other. Enough responsibility to shape me into a contributing member of society, enough freedom to learn from my mistakes, enough material comfort to more than satisfy my needs and enough time for fun.”
Jay listened. He stared at the ugly door and didn’t kid himself that he and Ellen were simply getting to know each other. Something was coming.
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