The Secrets She Kept

The Secrets She Kept - Chapter 2

"Ah, Rosie. Perfect timing."

Wincing, I closed the office door behind me quietly and rushed the last few feet to my desk. The clock on the wall stared back at me in recrimination. I was late. Ten minutes late. It was like the last ingredient in this shit sandwich of a day and it was only ten past bloody nine.

My stomach churned uncomfortably. My palms were clammy despite the fact the heating had yet to take the chill out of the air. I hated this. I hated being late. I hated the idea that my boss, who had already done so much for me, would think I was taking advantage of his kindness.

It was stupid.

I didn't need to worry. The man currently patting down his pockets, his eyes wandering over the cluttered desk tops, could not have cared less. I watched him for a few moment before I shook my head and sighed. The process was a familiar one. If left to his own devices, it would take him at least ten minutes to realise his glasses were resting on the edge of his receding hairline. As they had yesterday. And last week too.

Dumping my bag into my desk, I drew in a fortifying breath. Mr Jacob Wright was a good employer – even if he was a bit scatter-brained at times. Most of the time. He just had a way of getting so lost in his projects, the rest of the world had a way of just falling away.

He was also kind and the tendency to be perceptive at the worst of times. Two things I didn't need and couldn't deal with. Not today.

I drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. A temporary fix to the emotions bubbling within me. It was just all too much. It was like my very skin had been rubbed raw, my wounds tender and ready to bleed at the gentlest of touches, and yet, the wounds were invisible. Only I could see them. Only I could feel them.

Keeping my back towards him, I said, "They're on your head, Jacob."

My hands busied themselves with my laptop. Opening the top. Plugging in the cables. Turning on the power. The routine helped to ground myself – to push back the overwhelm that so often tried to bury me under.

"So they are. Silly me. Thank you, Rosie." His voice greeted my ears a moment before there was a tell-tale squeak as he returned to his chair. "Can you make that special coffee you're so good at? The team huddle starts in five."

"Of course, Jacob."

"Oh, you are a star." He said in response and I knew, if I turned to look at him, there would be a wide fatherly smile upon his face.

Pushing from my desk, I hurried across the expansive office and into the modern office kitchen. I came to an abrupt halt and I hovered in the doorway. Half a dozen people milled about the small space, smiles on their face as their teased and joked with one another.

And like it had been for the past five years, I found myself present and yet somehow apart.

"I can't wait for drinks tonight," one of the women said with a sigh, leaning against the countertop. "I've got a sitter for the evening and I am prepared to take full advantage."

"Oi, oi. Watch out lads, Linds is on the prowl."

I jumped, the voice far too loud and far too close. A moment later an arm was thrown carelessly over my shoulder. At the touch, every muscle locked up in my body. I was a statue. I couldn't have moved even if I wanted to. A part of me wanted to shrug off the unfamiliar touch. Another part, the part I tried to ignore, relished the casual human contact. It's been so long. Too long.

I clenched my hands and forced myself not to lean into the tall lean body beside me. Forced myself not to prolong the contact for any longer than necessary.