Johnnie Alexander

“How soon do you want to move in?” “As soon as possible after school is out. In about six or seven weeks.” “Are you a teacher too?” AJ asked. Shelby shook her head. “I have a first grader. And a three-year-old.” “You’re married?” As AJ’s brown eyes flitted to her left hand, she self-consciously folded it into her waist. It’d been over a year since Gary’s death, but she still wore her wedding band. More for her daughters’ sakes than her own. “I was.”
― Johnnie Alexander, Where She Belongs

“How about going into town for lunch? My treat.” “With you? No.” “This may surprise you,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I’m not my grandfather.” Shelby gazed at the broken swing. “Uncle Richard told me you’ve owned this house about five or six years.” “Six.” “What exactly did you do different than your grandfather?” A wounded frown replaced AJ’s amiable smile, and his eyes brimmed with pain. Regret gripped Shelby’s heart. She’d meant the words to sting a little, but not to cut. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he turned on his heel and headed toward his Jeep before she could say a word. Opening the driver’s door, he glared at her over the roof. “See you at the signing.” “I didn’t mean—” “I think you did.” He disappeared into the Jeep and started the ignition. As the vehicle bounced down the lane, Shelby’s heart jolted. It was as if she were fourteen again, as lonely and abandoned as the house behind her.”
― Johnnie Alexander, Where She Belongs