Page 84 of Run to Me

Jensen

You never have to ask. I’ll leave the door unlocked. See you after work.

A puff of air bursts from my lips. He could’ve told me to eat pavement, and I wouldn’t blame him. I make a mental note to work on improving my communication skills and stuff my phone in the back pocket of my denim shorts.

In a strategic move to protect my sanity, I didn’t announce my presence to Vera when I let myself into her house. She’s watching television in her bedroom, the volume unnecessarily loud, while I’m waiting on the person I hired to clean.

When I told Vera about my plan to bring in a cleaning service, she had no comment. She doesn’t like strangers in her space, but she’ll have to suck it up if she wants my help around here because I can’t do everything myself.

When I answer the knock on the front door, my jaw drops in surprise at who I find on the other side.

“Hi,” she says with a nervous wave. “I’m Ainsley.”

I recognize Jensen’s employee but never caught her name before now. She’s kind of young to be cleaning houses, but hey, earn that money, girl.

Closing the door behind her, I say, “Thanks for coming on short notice.”

“It’s no problem. I’m grateful for the work.”

Ainsley fidgets with the hem of her athletic pullover—it’s too warm outside to be wearing long sleeves—and sweeps aside the bangs that reach her chin. They’re long enough to pull back into her ponytail, but she leaves them loose for some reason. I’d bet money the bangs are her armor, shielding her from anyone trying to look too closely.

Thick, long chestnut hair contrasts with her fair complexion. She has sharply defined features, her high cheekbones softened by big, brown doe eyes. She’s average height and, judging by the toned legs covered by tight yoga pants, extremely fit.

“Um. I don’t actually have my own supplies. I forgot to put that on the flyer.” She winces at the admission.

To ease her worries, I say, “That’s no problem. Everything you need is in the hall closet or in the laundry room above the dryer. Follow me, and I’ll show you around.”

She relaxes, her stiff movements becoming looser as I give her the two-minute tour of Vera’s house. I let Ainsley know Logan’s room is off-limits. Imagining how Vera will react if someone invades that sacred space sends a chill down my spine. It would not go over well. So I reiterate the no-access policy to Ainsley, and she assures me she won’t even peek at the doorknob.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” I say when we end the tour in the laundry room.

“Thanks. I’ll get to work and be out of here before you know it.”

While she cleans, I sort through a stack of mail. Vera’s meticulous about paying bills on time and keeping her paperwork organized, so I’m a little shocked at the pile of sealed envelopes spread haphazardly on the kitchen counter. At least a week’s worth. Nothing indicates a past due notice or anything urgent, so I set the mail aside in a neat stack and settle on the couch to scroll through my phone.

Less than an hour passes with sounds of the vacuum, the spritzing of cleaning products, and the wet mop slapping against the linoleum when Vera’s raspy screech pierces my ears.

“Who are you?” she yells.

I leap off the couch and race to her bedroom, where Ainsley’s frozen with a death grip on the vacuum handle. Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her into the hallway before locking myself in the room with my distraught mother.

In a harsh whisper, I say, “I told you someone was coming to clean. There’s no reason to yell at her.”

“I don’t like strangers in my house,” she says, clutching a quilt to her chest.

I pull a calming breath through my nose and force a gentle tone. “You’ll have to get used to people being around. I can’t do everything, so I’ll be calling in some help when I need it. But don’t worry, no one will go into Logan’s bedroom.”

Her wary gaze remains locked on me as I back out of the room and shut the door. Ainsley loiters in the hallway near the kitchen, twisting her hands together, her face pale and eyes wide.

“Should I leave?” she whispers.

Waving a dismissive hand, I speak at a normal volume. “Ignore her. She’s weird about people in her space.”

Ainsley’s brows shoot up at my remark, spoken loud enough for Vera to hear over the now muted television. “Oh. I heard she was sick or something.” The color on her cheeks darkens. “I mean, people at the bar talk, so I hear a lot of gossip.”

I jerk my chin toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Water or iced tea?”

“Water would be great. Thanks.”