AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Do you think… I mean, would you mind if I grabbed my sandwich from my desk before we started?” she asked.
“Not necessary.” He pushed the containers across the desk. “This is for you.”
She stared at him in surprise and confusion as he took out the second soup, sandwich, and two water bottles. He took the lid off his soup and unwrapped his sandwich. “Eat up, Ms. Smith.”
* * *
Jane studied the food in front of her. Shame and hunger were warring within her, but hunger won easily. She unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite. It was a turkey sandwich with sweet cranberry sauce, and she wanted to bury her face into it. She tried to chew slowly but finished her sandwich before her boss had even eaten half of his. Her face burned with embarrassment as she took the lid off her soup and inhaled deeply.
“Careful, it’s hot,” her boss said.
She made herself set the spoon down and drink some water. Mr. Dawson was studying her, and she cleared her throat. “So, you found the work I left for you on your desk?”
“I did,” he confirmed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She waited for him to start talking about work and nearly choked on her sip of water when he said, “Did you grow up here, Ms. Smith?”
“Uh, yes, I did,” she said. “Did you?”
“Yes. Do you have any siblings?”
She shook her head. “How about you? I mean, besides Ms. Dawson?”
“No, it’s just Amy and me. Are you close to your parents?”
“They died when I was fifteen.”
He stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She took her own bite of soup. Oh God, it was so good. It was cream of broccoli, and although she usually hated broccoli, she decided she was foolish. Broccoli was as delicious as chocolate.
“How did they die?”
Her eyes widened at his bluntness. Not that she hadn’t had people ask her about her parents’ death, but usually, it was after they’d known her for a while. She opened her mouth to share her regular lie about their deaths, but how Luke stared at her as if he would see straight through her to the dark truth made her blurt out the truth.
“My mother caught my father cheating on her. Three days later, she shot him while he was having a nap and then shot herself.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
She hurriedly ate more soup, hoping he wouldn’t ask her any more questions about her life. She hated talking about herself. Even before the murder/suicide of her parents, she was shy and quiet, and after that trauma, she became even more withdrawn. If it hadn’t been for Mama J, she would probably be a complete recluse by now.
“Were you there?” he asked.
She jerked, spilling her spoonful of soup all over his shiny desk. She apologized before mopping up the spill with her napkin. He handed her the paper bag to throw the napkin in, and she busied herself by throwing her empty sandwich wrapper in the bag.
“Were you, Jane?”
“Was I what?” she hedged.
“Were you there when it happened?”
“No, of course not.”
“Jane,” he said softly.
