ChapterEight
Killian
I frowned at the cracks in the three windows in front of me before sipping my beer, trying not to get pissed off. It was odd since I didn’t feel much of anything in the past couple of years.
I didn’t feel joy in the slightest, as that feeling would never return. I didn’t feel jealousy or anger. I couldn’t feel anger. That would require me to be something more than I was.
But right then, anger slammed into me full force, and all I wanted to do was throw my beer bottle at the now broken windows and scream until the gods decided that they were going to be lenient on me.
“It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
I had just put in these windows a month ago, and they were hurricane strength, triple-paned, the best you could buy for this area, so anyone who was inside during a fucking blizzard or windstorm would be fine in the mountains.
And yet, somehow, they had cracks all along the edges? It was as if somebody had taken a diamond or etching tool of some sort and carefully slid it across the corners of each of the panes. That, along with the stress from the wooden frames, and now cracks were starting to appear.
If the light hadn’t hit it at just the right moment, I would’ve missed it this morning because they were so hairline. Yet, this looked almost deliberate.
I turned around, looked at the mountain behind me, the hills surrounding me, the massive trees, and figured it could be a stone, a rock, or fuck, a bird could have hit them. But all three large windows at once? No, that didn’t make much sense. Especially not with the angle that these windows sat at since the whole reason I had put these windows in the great room was for the view. We were right on the edge of a hill so you could see for miles across the southern property line, with the mountains taking up space in the west, while the rest of the foothills were to the east.
I loved those windows.
Danielle had picked out those windows.
I swallowed hard, annoyed with myself for even thinking her name. I was so good about not thinking her name most of the time.
Cora whined beside me and I leaned down, brushed along her head, and took another sip of my beer.
“It’s going to take months to order new windows.”
“What happened?” Archer Montgomery asked as he walked down the path, his hands in his pockets, confusion on his face.
I hadn’t heard him come up and I nearly jumped, but Cora’s wagging tail had warned me he was there, so I hadn’t thrown my beer bottle at him.
“I’m not sure. But all three are fucking broken now. I’m going to have to get them replaced.”
Archer whistled out through his teeth. “It’s a shame. Those are gorgeous.”
“Yeah. They were custom for this design, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do now.”
“Yeah, that’s a hit to the budget.”
I didn’t tell him that I didn’t care about the budget. I didn’t need to worry about a budget anymore. Hell, I would do anything to worry about a fucking budget.
“Is your guy going to fix it?”
I turned to him then, looking him over. He wore dark jeans—not the jeans he worked in, but the jeans he went out in—a gray Henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was a mess as if he’d been running his hands through it. He had on black boots, again, not work boots, so I didn’t think he had come here to work.
Odd then, since he didn’t own the fucking place, and since he was walking around the forest in clothes that didn’t fit the setting.
But what was I supposed to say to him? It wasn’t like I should care. And the fact that I did just angered me more, on top of the broken windows.
“The guy that fit these is retired, so I’m going to have to find a new company.”
Archer frowned. “What about for the rest of the house? Don’t you have a company for those?”
“I do,” I answered, annoyed with myself more than anything.
Archer came to my side, leaning down to pet Cora. “Let me guess, they don’t do custom work with those size windows?” he asked, a brow raised.