Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}

Chapter 2

Helen drummed her fingers idly against her chin, staring down at her tablet with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

Sifting through the many emails requesting advice and picking only three that she would respond to each week was always a difficult task, and her drooping eyes and nonstop yawns weren't helping. But she wouldn't be able to sleep—not yet, anyway.

Her roommate wasn't back yet, and she wouldn't be able to sleep until she knew she wasn't alone in the apartment. Her incessant need for company was another result of the tragic event that shaped her late teenage years, and she worried that it—like her fear of driving—would never quite go away.

Glancing at the clock, she shifted in her seat anxiously when she saw where the hands were pointing. It was almost one in the morning, but there was no sign of her roommate, and she couldn't stop the knot of dread from forming in her stomach.

What if something had happened to the other woman? She normally got off work at seven, and even though she often went out on Friday nights with her coworkers, she typically got home by eleven at the latest.

No sooner had the thought crossed Helen's mind was the apartment door slammed open.

Sagging with relief, Helen peered over the back of the couch to find her roommate since college, Addison, shuffling inside. The other woman threw the door closed, turned to Helen, and exclaimed, "Why the hell am I still working at this crap-hole?"

Helen raised a single brow. "Depends, I guess. What'd the boss do this time?"

"What didn't she do?" Addison cried, throwing off her shoes before stalking to the attached kitchen and grabbing something from the pantry. She reappeared in front of Helen several beats later, her dyed purple hair mussed and her blue eyes glinting with anger. "Put down your electronic device-thingy and listen to me rant for a few minutes, will you?"

Chuckling, Helen did as told, shutting down her tablet and setting it on the coffee table before leaning back into the cushions and stifling a grin when she saw the jar of peanut butter and spoon in the woman's hands. Addison had a lot of quirks, and her love for peanut butter was one of them.

The taller, modelesque woman flopped down onto the plush leather couch, snagging Helen's blanket and tugging it over her lap before digging into her peanut butter. "So," she started, popping a heaping spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth and sucking on it happily, "Yvette's a total bitch sometimes."

Propping an arm against the back of the couch and resting her cheek in her palm, Helen nodded. "Right." Addison had made it very clear that she had a love-hate relationship with the way her boss, Yvette, ran her salon.

"Well," the woman blew out a dramatic sigh as she dug out more peanut butter, "she's been on our butts all week about part-time workers and people taking off too much time, right? So, she tells me I have to work all weekend—which puts me into overtime, mind you—and then proceeds to leave early for a football game!" She shot Helen an exasperated look, waving around her spoon for good emphasis. "Like, honestly? So, I asked her if she would be in for the rest of the weekend, and do you know what she said?"

Helen had a feeling she knew what Yvette had said, but she stayed quiet and let Addison continue.

"She said to me, 'no, it'll be in good hands with you here, and I could use a break.' Excuse you?" she screeched, throwing her head back and eyeing the ceiling as though it was to blame. "I am not working overtime just so you can have some extra nap time; I've worked overtime for the past three weeks! Get someone else to do it, if you're so desperate for some time off. Hell, I should be getting time off!"