Текст книги "Follow Me Back"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

chapter

three

maxx

there was a five-inch crack in the plaster above my head.

If I stared at it long enough, it seemed to grow and move right before my eyes.

I blinked and it stopped. Then it would start all over again.

Right now, that fucking crack was the most interesting thing in my life.

What a depressing realization.

“It’s time for group, Maxx.”

I didn’t bother to look toward the voice coming from the doorway. The air was stale with the smell of sweat and too much Axe cologne. My roommate, Dominic, an obese pothead, seemed to think that dousing himself in that shit replaced the necessity of a shower.

It was day eighteen at Barton House, a state-run rehab facility that had, for a brief period, seemed like the ticket to starting over.

I was now starting to rethink everything.

It had been easy to make the decision to come here. In the beginning I had been coming off the worst withdrawals of my life. I was still reeling from the fact that I had almost died and that all the people I loved had left me.

I had been alone.

Completely and totally alone.

I had not been in a good place.

So I came here thinking this was my new lease on life. This was my opportunity to show everyone that I didn’t want to end up another scary statistic in a brochure about addictions.

I would beat this shit before it beat me.

But then the days started to drift into each other, and once the initial desperation had worn off, I was left with the second-guessing.

Because the physical withdrawal was long gone. The seventy-two hours in the detox unit had taken care of that.

Now I was left with all the urges that came after my body had returned to stasis. The ones that were entirely in my head. The ones that made it really hard to stay.

Because the longer I stayed here, playing the part of the recovering addict, the harder it would be to face what waited for me out there.

The things that I missed so damn much.

Aubrey.

Landon.

The club.

The fucking drugs.

Always, always the drugs.

“Maxx. Seriously. Come on.”

I let out an overly dramatic breath, feeling more than a little irritated. I swung my legs off the bed and slowly sat up. I refused to look at Pete, the rehabilitation assistant. I ran my hands through the hair that hung in my eyes. I needed a haircut. But there was no way I was getting ahold of a pair of scissors in this place. Too tempting to slice a vein or two, I guess.

Nope, can’t let the recovering addict have access to pointy things.

“Getting depressed is normal . . .” Pete started to say.

Jesus Christ, kill me now!

I wasn’t entirely sure what Pete’s job was at the clinic. He wasn’t a counselor. He didn’t lead any support groups. He just walked around trying to talk to the patients about their feelings. He was overly self-righteous, seemed to think he had the inside track on everyone’s addiction. It was more than obvious he was floundering through his dead-end job. And no matter how many token buzzwords he used, he sounded like someone trying way too hard.

I stared at him, eyeballing him through narrowed slits. He wasn’t much older than me, but his thinning hair and sad comb-over made him look middle-aged. He suffered from a clear case of bad genetics, poor bastard. I watched Pete swallow audibly and take a noticeable step back into the hallway. I intimidated him. For a brief second, I got a sick sense of satisfaction from that. Then I felt slightly guilty for enjoying his discomfort.

The old Maxx would have loved his reaction. I would have used his clear intimidation to my advantage. But this Maxx didn’t do those things. And honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know how to be without the drugs in my system. I had to learn how to be this stranger taking up residence in my own skin. I had to develop a personality separate from the drugs. And I wasn’t exactly sure how to do that when so much of who I was had been wrapped up in a scene I was forcing myself to leave behind.

“I’m not depressed. I’m bored,” I told him. I got to my feet and followed Pete out into the hallway.

I had checked myself into rehab convinced I was making the right choice. Hell, it was probably the only choice I had. When I got out of the hospital, I had been coming off the aftereffects of a crash course in detox. My body had been weak and my mind even weaker. I had felt horrible, both physically and mentally. I couldn’t remember a time I had ever been so low. But all I could think about was making things right again.

Because Aubrey had left me. Smashed my fucking heart and walked away without looking back. I both hated and loved her for that.

I was miserable without her, but it was also the swift kick I had needed to make some serious changes. For the first time in my life I had wanted something more than the drugs. I still wanted that rush. I was scared I always would. But more than anything else, I just wanted her back.

So I had been convinced that I could change. That I could be a better person. That I’d clean up my act here at Barton House, then get out and sweep Aubrey Duncan off her too-good-for-me feet.

But the initial sense of desperation to get my life in order that had gotten me through my first week here was fading fast as the reality of this depressing, hopeless place started sinking in.

The lure of my old life was poking me in the subconscious. Reminding me that it was still there, waiting for me. And the longer I stayed locked behind these walls, the more I wavered between wanting to do things right and wanting to get back to the life I used to have. The one where I didn’t feel so small and helpless.

The one where I felt in control.

Because here I was most definitely not in control.

Every second of every day was monitored and accounted for. I couldn’t take a piss without someone knowing where I was and what I was doing. And losing control, my autonomy, on top of everything else was proving almost too much to handle.

But when I thought back to what rock bottom had looked like, I did my best to push aside my inner grumblings and go to group. Sit through therapy and vow that I would never allow myself to be that person again.

But every day was a new battle between the old Maxx and the new one. And I never knew which one would win.

“Is your brother coming this weekend?” Pete was asking, though I barely heard him.

“Huh?” I asked as we walked down the hall toward the conservatory where the support group was held.

“Is your brother coming up for visiting hours this weekend? It would be a great opportunity to utilize family counseling. That’s a huge part of the program. It could be a great step for both of you.”

My hands clenched into fists, and I had to work hard to control my reaction to the innocent question.

My feelings about my little brother were all messed up. Guilt and shame and anger. It was a festering cesspool of twisted, dark stuff inside of me.

The memory of Landon’s visit to the hospital, looking at me with absolute disgust while I lay in that bed, was still heavy on my mind, every day.

I had tried to talk to Landon, but he wouldn’t hear me. And after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence he had turned and left.

Finally, he sees you for the worthless shit you really are. He’ll hate you forever, Maxx. And you fucking deserve it, my uncle David had sneered before following my brother out of the room.

That had been the last time I had seen Landon. I had attempted to call him several times over the last few weeks but was put through to his voice mail every time. I knew it was completely intentional.

My brother was avoiding me. Not that I blamed him. I had disappointed him. Shattered the illusion he had held of his competent and capable older brother. I stopped being the guy he could count on, and I only became the failure. Knowing how he felt about me, the real me, was my biggest shame.

I had never intended for him to know the truth about me. He had been my responsibility since the death of our parents. I hadn’t wanted him exposed in any way to the ugly reality I lived in. But now he had been. And because of that, he wanted nothing to do with me.

“No, he’s not coming,” I said shortly, grinding the words out like glass in my mouth. I was done talking about him.

“Why not? It would be an excellent opportunity—”

I cut Pete off with an angry grunt. “He’s not coming, all right?”

Pete was clearly flustered by my response. I shrugged, unapologetic, and left him rambling about taking advantage of services or some shit. I shouldn’t have snapped at Pete. He was just doing his job, whatever that may be. But I couldn’t talk with him, or anyone, about Landon. I entered the conservatory and found a spot in the circle of chairs.

This support group was the same as the last one I had attended on the LU campus in a lot of ways. Same topics, same overly emotional talking points. Same mundane activities meant to make us “think.” But it was the one significant difference that made sitting here day after day extremely difficult.

I love you so much, Maxx. I do. And that’s why I can’t watch you kill yourself. I won’t.

It had been weeks since I had spoken to Aubrey, but the decimation remained. And I couldn’t think about Aubrey without thinking of other things. Gash. Marco. The club. The world I had lived in that was as much of an obsession as Aubrey could ever be.

And of course that made me think about the drugs. Which wasn’t surprising. I always thought about the drugs. The way they tasted on my tongue. The burn in my throat. Those horrible yet blissful moments while I waited for them to take over. The thrill as they wasted me away.

If losing Aubrey had almost destroyed me, then losing my drugs damn near ripped me apart. Not having that part of my life anymore had taken away the person I had spent years becoming. Without the drugs, without the club, who the fuck was I?

Who was Maxx Demelo, now that he had nothing to offer anyone?

“Everyone, take a seat.” Stacey, the drug addictions specialist, waved everyone to their places. I made a point not to make eye contact with those around me. Though I couldn’t help but stare at the chick on the other side of the room who looked as though she wanted to crawl out of her skin. She picked at her fingernails until they bled.

She looked like how I felt. Just about ready to lose my mind.

“Hey, man.” A hand touched my shoulder, and I acted instinctively. I shoved the hand away and snarled.

“Whoa! I was just saying hey. You all right?” Dominic looked at me apprehensively. I rolled my eyes but attempted a casual smile. He might smell bad, but I didn’t want to make him piss himself.

It was pretty obvious Dominic wanted to be my friend. I attracted needy dudes as much as the women.

A few months ago, I would have loved his brand of schoolboy ignorance. The clueless student living off Mommy and Daddy’s money and possessing zero common sense. I would have been able to sell him a quarter for the price of an ounce, and he wouldn’t have questioned me.

I used to eat guys like Dominic for breakfast.

I knew he was here because his parents thought his weed habit was a problem. It was almost laughable. He really had no idea the lengths some of us would go to for our addiction. How easy it was to lose everything for the high.

“You need to learn the concept of personal boundaries before you lose a hand,” I warned, though I tried to laugh to lessen the sting of my words.

He grinned and I smiled uneasily in return.

“Right. Personal boundaries. I get it,” Dominic chortled. “Did you do the homework? I wrote like five pages in my journal last night after you went to bed. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s pretty freaking funny. You talk a lot about a girl named Aubrey. Who is she? Is she your girlfriend? Whoever she is, you say her name a lot. You should tell me about her. She’s obviously important to you. At least you don’t snore. My roommate at school says I snore. Do I snore? It’s cool, you can tell me.”

My face started to burn red. What the hell? Any attempted goodwill toward my nosy roommate vanished. The sound of her name on his lips made me feel almost homicidal.

“Are you getting lunch after this? I think they’re serving fajitas. I freaking love Mexican food. You can tell me about Aubrey if you want. That’s what friends do. They talk about stuff.”

I could only stare at him with a mixture of irritation and confusion. I wondered if he had more mental problems than a supposed addiction to marijuana.

“Dominic,” I said quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning forward, his face eager.

“Shut up and stay the hell out of my business. I get that you’re a talker. But I’m not. I’m not here to make friends. I just want to get through my time and go home. Got it?”

“Uh . . . okay . . . but I’m here if you want to talk and stuff . . . we’re roommates and we shouldn’t keep secrets—”

“Dominic, seriously, back the fuck off already.” I rubbed the spot in the center of my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “And stop listening to me while I sleep. It’s fucking creepy.”

Dominic didn’t say anything else.

Stacey started passing out worksheets. I took one and handed the pile to the person on my left. I looked down and had to suppress a groan.

The ABCs of Addiction. Understanding Your Triggers.

I looked at the rest of the people around me and was instantly sorry that I had. No one looked happy to be there. Even my considerable charm was lost on this group.

Aside from the manic nail picker and Dominic-I-refuse-to-bathe, there was an older woman who clearly thought heroin chic was a legit thing. Then there was the old biker dude who was missing most of his teeth and the scrawny tweeker who twitched uncontrollably every few minutes. I looked at my fellow screwups and felt like throwing up.

They were each damaged in their own particular way. They were all here for different reasons. What really sucked was while I sneered down my nose at their wretchedness, I also saw myself in every one of them.

Suddenly it hit me that maybe that’s why I hated them so much. Because deep down, they reminded me of myself. Of what I almost became. Of what I might still become.

My heart thudded in my chest. My lungs constricted painfully, and I was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe.

My eyes darted around the room, my gaze resting first on the meth-head-nail-picker. She must have sensed me looking at her. She raised her dead eyes and met mine.

I stood up so abruptly that my chair clattered to the floor. I backed up, my legs hitting the overturned chair, and I stumbled, almost falling.

“Maxx? Are you all right?” Stacey, the addictions specialist, asked. The patented counselor expression of concern was plastered on her face like a mask. Did she really give a shit that I was on the verge of freaking out?

Somehow I doubted it. This was just a job. What did she care if a bunch of smacked-out addicts got their lives together or not? If we came back over and over again, that just kept her in business.

I felt hollow knowing that the only people who had ever truly given a crap about me were the ones I had betrayed the most. The ones who had walked away.

I suddenly didn’t want to be alone with only my demons for company.

If only I had a few pills, then I’d feel so much better.

My addiction’s irresistible voice purred soothingly in my mind.

Just a pill or two. That’s all I really need. It would be so easy to leave and find what I want . . .

No!

I didn’t need pills! I wouldn’t leave! I thought again about lying in the hospital bed. Sick and alone. I thought about Landon, who refused to talk to me, and Aubrey, who had left me.

I didn’t want pills! I wouldn’t let myself want them. But I also couldn’t sit there surrounded by a roomful of people who represented the absolute worst of myself. I looked around the group, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

I practically ran from the room, my feet smacking against the linoleum as I fled. Thankfully, no one followed me. Once I was back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed. I was sweating, and the tightness in my chest was only just starting to subside.

Fucking hell. I’m pretty sure I just had a panic attack.

I needed to pull myself together. The desire to pack my things was almost overwhelming. Because that would be the easy thing to do. Run away from the hard stuff. Drown myself in the world I used to know. To lose myself in old habits. I wanted to so damn badly. But I knew that leaving would only prove to the people I cared about that I wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

And I wanted to take it seriously. I needed to.

Because at the end of the day I was doing all of this for one reason only. I was doing this for Aubrey. And for Landon. For a future I wanted to have with both of them. And one that I couldn’t have if I couldn’t stick this out and show them that I meant business. That when I hurt them, I was sorry.

So I’d stay. I’d try. I’d force myself to wake up in the morning and not think about how much I wanted to leave.

But I made a promise to myself. That after this was over, I would get out of here and I would get Aubrey back. I would show her that she didn’t need to run away from me. That I could take care of her. And take care of myself.

I felt a renewed conviction, and that felt good.

And as my heartbeat slowed and my breathing returned to normal, I began to think of other things besides all the ways I had messed up.

I started thinking of how to put the pieces back together.

The caged tiger of my addiction snarled angrily from where it lay trapped but noisy inside of me.

Aubrey.

Just her name quieted the voice in my head that wanted something altogether more damaging.

Aubrey.

The scary truth was that I couldn’t do this without her.

And I was determined that I wouldn’t have to.

chapter

four

aubrey

“i love you so much, Aubrey,” Maxx murmured, his lips tracing a path from my temple down the side of my face. I could feel the imprint of his mouth on my skin. The slight tremble as he kissed a line along my jaw.

I took a deep breath, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. My eyes were closed. I couldn’t see him, but I really wanted to. I wanted to look into his blue eyes and see how much he wanted me. How much he loved me.

But I couldn’t open my eyes. I was trapped in a world of darkness.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Maxx whispered, his breath fanning across my face. His hands slipped up the front of my shirt, and I felt his confident fingers molding to my breasts. I relaxed into his familiar touch. I ached for him. Every cell, every nerve responded to only him.

I wanted to say his name. I wanted to tell him that I loved him. That I missed him. That I was miserable without him in my life.

But my mouth, like my eyes, seemed to be fused shut. I was blind. I was mute. I could only feel as Maxx rubbed my nipples, a sharp bite as he pinched them almost viciously and then rubbed again gently, worshipfully. The soft pressure an unspoken apology.

“You’re mine, Aubrey. Always mine.” Maxx sounded so angry. Betrayal was thick in his voice as he pulled my shirt over my head and all but ripped my bra away from my hot skin. He sucked on my chest, and I felt a sharp prick of pain as I felt his teeth dig into my flesh.

Maxx was biting me! Hard!

I tried to lift my hands and push him away, but I couldn’t. Everything was dark. I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t move.

I could only feel as the man I loved pulled the skin from my bones with his teeth. The searing pain burned in my throat with my need to scream.

I felt Maxx’s tongue as he lapped the warm blood that flowed from the wound. And he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had consumed me completely.

He was devouring me. Eating me alive.

“You lied to me, Aubrey. You said you’d stay. You said you loved me. But you walked away. You left me all alone,” Maxx growled, his fingers piercing into my back, burrowing their way into my skin.

He was tearing me apart.

Literally.

And I was helpless to stop him.

“You were supposed to save me, Aubrey!” His anguished wail was like ice picks inside my head.

“I love you! Why wasn’t that enough?” Maxx roared just as his teeth punctured my heart.

I sat upright in my bed with a gasp. I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and my pulse fluttered madly. My hands shook as I pushed hair from my face.

My God, that was intense.

I put my fingers to my chest, touching the smooth skin. I could still feel the sharp twist of dream Maxx’s teeth. The warmth of my blood. The sound of his angry but panicked voice in my ears.

I took a deep breath and turned on my bedside lamp. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was only three in the morning.

I knew there would be no going back to sleep for me, so I got up and slid my feet into the worn pair of slippers peeking out from beneath my duvet, which had fallen onto the floor.

Insomnia and I had become close friends over the last few weeks. And when I did eventually fall asleep, it wasn’t for long. My nightmares made sure of that. My subconscious was attacking me when I was at my most vulnerable. Reminding me of everything I should be ashamed of.

Strangely, I had slept a deep, dreamless sleep at Maxx’s apartment. It had been the first time I had gotten a few solid hours without waking up shaking and covered in fear-soaked sweat.

I didn’t want to focus too much on the implications of that.

I sat down on the couch and turned on the television, flipping to the channel I knew was showing reruns of I Love Lucy.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” I looked up as Renee walked into the room. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been trying to slay their demons while they slept.

I patted the cushion beside me. “Have a seat and enjoy Lucille Ball with me,” I told her, offering a wan smile. When things with Maxx had gone so horribly wrong, Renee had been there. And when the sounds of my friend’s crying had pulled me out of my self-indulgent misery, I had comforted her in the only way heartbroken people can. With complete and total empathy.

We had learned how to help each other and in some small way mend the parts of us that had shattered.

Renee gave me a tired smile in return and sat down on the couch, curling her legs up underneath her. She didn’t say anything, and I recognized in her the same pain that resided in my chest. Sometimes, looking at my best friend was like looking in a mirror. As much as I hated it for myself, I hated it for her more.

After watching her lose herself for months, seeing her resurrection was inspiring. Devon hadn’t been one to go away quietly, and I knew that he pushed and pulled my friend, trying to make her cave and come back to him.

I heard his sobbing messages. I saw the notes and flowers he left by the front door. And although she hadn’t shed a tear for Devon since the day she had gotten the protective order, I knew how hard it was for her to turn her back on the man she had loved, no matter how horrible he had been.

Renee rarely spoke about Devon anymore. The few times I had brought him up, she had been firm in her resolve to stay away from him.

“There comes a point when a person can only take so much, Aubrey. And even though my heart doesn’t agree, my head knows I’m better off without him.” Her words had resonated. And I was envious of how strong she was.

Because every day I waffled between firm resolve and wishful thinking, with a splash of delusional hope.

I turned my attention back to the TV, hoping Lucy’s antics would erase, at least for a little while, all of the anguish neither one of us could escape. We sat in silence, watching the black-and-white television show, neither of us really paying attention to what was on the screen.

“Will it ever stop hurting?” I asked quietly after a while, rubbing the painful spot over my heart that never really went away.

There’s a saying that time heals all wounds. Whoever had spoken those particular words hadn’t had their life uprooted by Maxx Demelo. I couldn’t imagine time making any of it any easier. If anything, time only intensified the sense of emptiness in my gut where his love had once been.

Renee reached out and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. I stilled, unsure how to reciprocate the physical affection, feeling stuck in that strange place between needing the comfort and wanting to deny needing it at all. In the end, I slid closer, and the two of us sat in the lingering stillness of our silent agony.

“I sure hope so,” my best friend whispered back, an unspoken understanding in her simple statement. There were no false assurances. No insincere declarations.

It was only a plain truth given from one broken heart to another.

And there was no point in saying anything else.

By early evening I was a walking zombie. Functioning on four hours of sleep was proving more than a little difficult. The fact that I wasn’t sleeping was making me extremely edgy.

I strode across campus with my head down. I had never been an overly social individual, but now, after everything that had happened with Maxx, I was even less inclined to raise my head and make eye contact with anyone.

I still felt as though people were looking at me. I knew that I was being paranoid and more than a little narcissistic to think people would be at all interested in my life. But I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that they all knew.

I was trying to walk as quickly as possible past the psychology building, when I was enveloped by a swarm of people filtering out the front door.

I instantly recognized the faces around me.

It was the campus addictions support group.

Crap.

I tucked my chin into my coat and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Unfortunately, playing the part of Miss Invisible was an epic fail.

“Hey, Aubrey!” I gritted my teeth and wondered how pathetic it would look to run away as fast as my legs could carry me.

“Hey, Twyla,” I said, trying for a smile but accomplishing only something close to a grimace. I nodded at her friend Lisa, another member of the support group I had been co-facilitating until a few weeks ago. I wondered, not for the first time, how Kristie had explained my absence.

I soon found out.

“Sorry about your personal issues,” Twyla said with a touch of condescending scorn. I had never really connected to anyone besides Maxx in the group. And that wasn’t the sort of rapport a counselor should ever have with a client. I was afraid of what that really said about me and my ability to perform in a therapeutic capacity.

“Personal issues?” I asked stupidly.

Twyla and Lisa exchanged a look. It was loaded with suspicion.

“Well, that’s why Kristie said you weren’t in group anymore. You know, ‘personal issues,’ ” Lisa chimed in, lifting her fingers in air quotes.

I cleared my throat to delay my response.

“Well, I um . . .” I stumbled inarticulately.

Lisa and Twyla exchanged looks again. They really were the epitome of the bitchy sorority girls. With their perfect hair, glossy smiles, and impeccable manicures, they carried themselves with a confidence that came only to the effortlessly cool and attractive. But to look at them you’d never know they were as fucked up as the rest of us.

“Oh, I get it, it’s not something you want to talk about. Whatever.” Twyla waved her hands as if bored with the conversation. The rest of the group had already wandered off, but I couldn’t help but notice the hard stare of one particular person.

Evan and his downtrodden girlfriend, April, had taken their time as they passed by, Evan attempting his patented form of intimidation through narrowed eyes and clenched teeth.

“Do you know where Maxx is?” Lisa asked, snapping my attention away from Evan and April and back firmly into awkward territory.

“What do you mean?” I asked, and I hated the way my voice trembled, no matter how hard I tried to control it.

“He hasn’t been to group since before you left. You guys seemed tight, we just thought he may have said something to you.” Twyla eyed me closely. Her benign words barely concealed a deeper skepticism.

Maxx hadn’t been back to group.

I wasn’t surprised by the news, but it added to my unease. His whereabouts were proving to be more than a little concerning. His apartment was unlived in. He hadn’t been back to group. He had essentially disappeared.

Where the hell was Maxx? I squared my shoulders and gave them an insincere smile, not about to tip them off to my inner turmoil.

“I barely know Maxx. Why would I know where he is?” I lied with effort. My words sounded fake, even to me. I was a shitty liar. And I was pretty sure Twyla and Lisa weren’t fooled in the slightest.

“Okay, well, if you see him, tell him we were asking about him. I owe him a cup of coffee,” Lisa said, and I wanted to scratch her stupid eyes out. The irrational, jealous harpy inside reared her ugly head. I wanted to ask about this so-called owed cup of coffee. I wanted to grab handfuls of her hair and force her to tell me exactly how well she knew my ex-boyfriend.

Instead I shrugged, trying too hard to come off unconcerned.

“I don’t think I’ll see him,” I stated. I sounded irritated and defensive and way too obvious. If I had any sense of pride and self-preservation, I’d shut up and never utter Maxx Demelo’s name again.

So why did my traitorous heart thump his name wildly in my chest?

Maxx. Maxx. Maxx.

Lisa and Twyla traded a loaded look. “Okay, well, never mind, then. We must have been mistaken,” Lisa replied shortly, a smile as fake as my own plastered on her face. Twyla wiggled her fingers in my direction as the two walked away.

I let out a breath and looked up at the overcast sky.

Maxx, where are you?

Damn it! I hated that I was worried so much. I wished I could shut down and turn off the way I had always been able to do before.

But I knew I wouldn’t stop worrying or wondering. Maxx, even though he was absent from my life, was the most pressing thing on my mind.

What else was new?

“Aubrey, what are you doing here?” a voice asked with more than a hint of accusation.

Kristie Hinkle stopped in front of me. I hadn’t seen Kristie since our horrific meeting in which I was rightfully accused of my crimes. She looked less than thrilled to see me, but her professionalism stopped her from telling me to get lost.