Read Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

No strings. No rules but her own.
    Yeah, how’s all the positive jive workin’ for you?
    Trinity puffed out an exasperated scoff at her mind’s negative jab and snatched her purse from the passenger seat. A healthy mental attitude took too much damned work.
    After a click of her car alarm and a quick check left and right, she trudged across the street toward the homiest version of hell on earth. Her necklace lay heavy on her chest beneath her crewneck sweater set, but she checked the neckline to be sure it was hidden. God forbid her mother find out she was still wearing it.
    Her fingers drifted higher, circling at the hollow of her neck as her heels clicked against the sidewalk. The memory of Ramsay’s touch last night was as sharp under the noonday sun as it had been when she’d finally drifted off to sleep last night. She still couldn’t decide if running had been the smartest or stupidest thing she’d ever done.
    Probably smart. Questions, shrewd eyes, and her telltale warning tingle? The whole thing had danger danger written all over it.
    Still, he’d been able to touch her.
    She groaned and rang the doorbell. All this mental back and forth was exhausting.
    The white painted door opened and rattled the old screen door.
    A familiar woman with short dark hair and a kind smile pushed the screen door open, Trinity’s mom hovering behind her. “Trinity!”
    Trinity scrambled to place the woman and, without thinking better of it, shook her outstretched hand to cover the awkward moment.
    The world dropped away.
    A tidy but sparse and aged study, the decor at least two decades old.
    The woman in her mother’s doorway stood beside a man whose dark-haired head was bowed over a large desk.
    “Please, don’t make me go there,” she said. “God forgive me, but she’s the most judgmental, sanctimonious person I think I’ve ever met.”
    The dark-haired man looked up. “I need you, Lisa. You can reach her. Someone needs to. She’s making the rest of our parishioners nervous.”
    Trinity dropped the woman’s hand and reality rushed to greet her.
    “I’m Lisa O’Dell. My husband’s the minister at your mother’s church.”
    That’s why she seemed familiar. Trinity had only been to her mother’s church-of-the-month a few times, much to Mom’s dismay. “That’s right. I remember now. It’s good to see you again.”
    Lisa stepped out onto the stoop, making room for Trinity to pass through. “Such a nice daughter to come and spend a quiet lunch with your mother.”
    Behind her, Trinity’s mother scoffed.
    Lisa didn’t seem to notice. “Now remember what I said, Carol. I know you mean well, but the church is about tolerance and love. Take a few days to think it through, and if you feel you need someone to talk to, I’ll swing by for another chat.” Her words were sweet and her smile was locked in place, but she bee-lined it to the car before her mother could answer.
    Trinity pulled the screen door closed and shut the main door behind it, blocking out the cheery noonday sun. The dreary room matched everything about her mother—thinning, dull blond hair with ample gray, and clothes in every shade of drab. “What was all that about?”
    Silly to ask. After all these years with her mother, the routine seldom changed.
    “I simply shared with the minister my concerns about the youth at church and their wanton behavior.” Her mother crossed her arms and frowned, the wrinkles around her mouth etched deep from years of scowling. “Evil must be stomped out before it can take root. The smallest amount of tolerance can lead to ruin for their souls.”
    Trinity sat her purse aside and glided to the small kitchen. The scent of spice and bubbling cheese filled the room. Mexican chicken casserole if she had to guess. The thought of eating while sitting through one of her mother’s vile spiels made her queasy.
    She pulled her old emotional armor tight. If those innocent children were sporting evil in her mother’s