The Billionaire's Housekeeper (Betsy Jones Book 1) - Unedited

The Billionaire's Housekeeper - Chapter 38

Chapter 38

As rain thundered against the window and the logs in the in the fireplace crackled merrily, Betsy rubbed at healing wound on her thigh. Phantom pains, which had haunted her repeatedly since that night, shot through her leg. It had been a few months since the attack. Yet even now, when the wound was finally closed over with angry pink scar tissue, Betsy still swore that she could feel the knife in her leg. It felt so real, she sometimes thought she would see the handle jutting from her leg if she just looked down.

It was never there. It was just her mind playing tricks as if determined to keep her locked in the bubble of fear.

Closing her eyes tightly, Betsy drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She hated the way her hand trembled as she wiped aware the tears. She was helpless against the lingering effects of that day. Her mind was not an easy thing to fight against. After all, how can you escape your own mind?

It was the woman's eyes which haunted her the most. Not the colour. Most of that had faded to an obscure grey colour, the details bleeding away as if her brain was doing everything it could to blur out the memory. However the one thing that was resistant to its effects was the crazed looking eyes which had been focused on her. The eyes of a killer. She may not have done the deed but in her heart Betsy knew that she would have if she'd had the time.

It was the scariest part.

Betsy had known there were people out there capable of killing. She had been a teenager when she had watched the news with her mum and truly grasped that people were dying at the hands of the other. Yet it had taken her attack to truly put it into perspective. It wasn't just a story anymore. It had been real.

And yet she had still come back to the scene of the crime. She had to.

"Knock knock." Claire sang, forced cheer in her voice.

Turning away from the windows, Betsy smiled over at her sister. "Hey."

Taking that as a sign to approach, Claire crossed the room and pulled her little sister into a one armed hug. With Christmas just a few short weeks away, Claire had already started wearing her fluffy jumpers. The baby pink Fair Isle pattered number tickled against Betsy's cheek as she was hugged close. The shorter woman found that she didn't mind – it felt familiar. Comforting. Safe.

And all Betsy wanted was to feel safe.

"I know you're fed up with me asking this, but how are you feeling?" Claire asked softly.

The pair watched one another's reflection in the glass. Even through a reflection Betsy felt undone under her sister's gaze.

Betsy snorted and shook her head. "I won't lie and say I'm great. I'm far from it. But I'll be okay." Tilting her head to the side, Betsy rested her head against Claire's shoulder. "With a big sister like you, how could I not be?"

Claire laughed and pressed a kiss to Betsy's blonde curls. "I know you're just trying to butter me up. The answer is no. I'm not stealing cookies from Mrs Reed for you. I want to be invited for Christmas dinner."

Betsy laughed and shook her head. "You're no fun. Where are the kids?"

"With Nick. It still surprises me with how great he is with them. If you knew the Nick I first met." Claire trailed off, her reflection wearing a matching wistful smile.

The pair fell silent. Betsy opened her mouth a few times to say something. Say anything. But she just couldn't seem to find the right words.

"Have you spoken to him today?"