Page 77 of Trailer Trash

Me: Let me come see u. Idk what to do

Asher: NO.

Asher: I already told u what to do. Keep her.

Asher: Gotta go ttyl

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and slump. He controls everything. It’s such a one-sided relationship. He shows up when he wants to. Goes when he wants to. He fucking ends the conversation like I’m not worth his time.

“Keep her,” I mutter, contemplating. “Don’t let her leave.”

Maybe it would be okay. She seemed to want more. At least keep her around.

I snatch my phone. Text her.

Me: Come to work tomorrow.

There. That’s good.

Lowly CNA: What do you mean?

Me: We don’t have to change anything.

Lowly CNA: r u sure?

Me: I want to stay sober.

I chuckle under my breath. I guess I still have to lie.

Lowly CNA: OK. See u then

I exhale, long and heavy. Holy shit, I feel better.

Buzz, buzz.

Asher: Good job.

What the—?

How did he know I texted her? Atticus once cloned my phone for Asher as a joke. It stopped being funny a long time ago. I thought Atticus fixed that. Fucker.

I set down my phone like it’s a bomb ready to go off, then drive home, training myself not to keep replaying last night.

If Asher wants me to keep her, I’ll keep her. As maybe a plaything. Or just a friend. I can’t want more.

She wants more. Not me.

I’m fine.

I grab my phone. Text Brax. Make the drive. Once I’m home, I stare at the powder.

I snort it. Once. Twice. Until the pleasure sinks in and the unease fades out.

Just this time. Not again.

20

Harlow