Melora sat at the kitchen table, her gaze fixed on the cooling mug of tea between her palms. She’d left Chance in the living room nearly a half-hour before. After a time, she’d heard his sweet voice as he began making phone calls. Surely, he was trying to find a way out of this mess.

          The hardwood groaned its quiet protest under the weight of his approach and then Chance’s dark form filled the doorway. Arms braced against the frame like a looming threat, he pressed into the room without entering.

“I found out this morning…” she volunteered, figuring it as good a place to start as any.

“Are you ok?” he asked visibly concerned.

          It didn’t surprise her… There’d never been a question of caring. Only of degree.

“Yes. It was just my annual check-up. One thing led to another and then…”

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Comments (1)
goodnovel comment avatar
Bella Jersey
Don’t give Melora you’ll hate yourself

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