How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 141

She didn't want Elodie and Jarrod to have much contact.

Nor did she like the idea of Elodie's scent or traces lingering on Jarrod-his clothes, his things, his private space.

Jarrod didn't protest.

He glanced up.

Through the rearview mirror, he caught sight of a slender figure who'd just reached the bus stop.

She swayed slightly, as if fighting a faintness—maybe low blood sugar or something else forced to steady herself on the metal side of an ad board.

She looked unwell.

His eyes stayed cold and indifferent, but still, he spoke. "Pull over."

Sylvie and Octavia looked up.

Octavia was first to spot Elodie's predicament. She guessed what Jarrod was thinking and muttered irritably, "Jarrod, are you really falling for her act? She's just upset from before and putting on a show!"

"Just ignore her. If you pay her any mind, she'll take advantage." Octavia pleaded, eager to be gone.

Sylvie glanced back too, lips quirking in silent amusement.

performances were becoming

there, always chasing after

more in the

to tug Jarrod's sleeve to

elbow bumped Sylvie's

Sylvie inhaled sharply.

"Did I hurt

back, concern written on his face. "What's

he cared, smiled gently. "It's nothing. I just bumped my wrist yesterday while checking some parts at the workshop. It's much better now." "Why didn't you

you

lips, then looked at

he had

saw his reaction and couldn't help but let out a soft, happy

her breath, still leaning against the ad board, her

of a car engine

the exhaust had washed right

hadn't looked

didn't care what was happening with them. She simply sat down,

bones, making her shiver. She waited for her ride-share to

just around the corner, and the company

was divorced now, and there was no need to spend New Year's with the Silverstein family. She could go home

family was small, her mother gone, the house always a little too