Page 36 of Say it Ain’t So

“I need you to come back,” Lee said, his voice only a touch stronger than before. “Don’t make me call your pops.”

Fuck.

There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t regret telling Lee about Pops. As an ex-Marine, Lee was supposed to find some sort of commonality with my army veteran stepdad and maybe take it easier on me when I fucked up. The only thing it did was give him something to hold over my head. The threat of telling Pops—of having the only man who’d ever seemed to give a shit about me be disappointed in the man I’d become—was enough to get me to straighten up.

My spine stiffened and my gaze zipped to the cab driver in front of me, as if he could somehow hear our conversation, know what we were talking about, and call Pops himself.

“Fine,” I said, a little peevishly. “I’ll come back.”

Relief rushed out of my boss in a gush of breath that sounded like a windstorm blaring through my phone. “Thank you.” His voice broke again, and he cleared his throat. “Thanks, Dennis. I appreciate it.”

“You okay, boss?”

There was nothing but silence for a moment. Silence, and the squeak of a door.

“I will be. Just… make sure you come back.”

“Will do.”

He hung up without another word, and I sat back in my seat, lost in a thousand thoughts that I couldn’t control. When the cabbie pulled to a stop in front of the airport, I paid my fare, then went inside and purchased a ticket on the next flight out.

With nothing but the shirt on my back and the need to escape screaming in my veins, I boarded a plane less than an hour after I’d ditched the club.

I left Chicago and all the dreams I’d thought I’d had.

Adventure was calling.

I only hoped I wasn’t too late.

12

JOSS

My golden snail, Gary, detached himself from the side of my fish tank and dropped onto the ball of moss near the floor, damn near crushing Clyde in the process. Clyde, my Cherry shrimp, skittered away, huddling in the corner as he continued his search for food. I dropped in a couple algae wafers for them and a sprinkling of flakes for the fish, then watched as the tank woke up for breakfast.

After the past couple years, I needed the peace of watching my fish tank. Inside, there was no abuse. There was no striving to please, no watching what I said.

There was no pain.

Except when the occasional shrimp or fish died or disappeared.

How easy it was, just to clean the tank and remove the body if it hadn’t been eaten. There was no therapy. No hospitalizations. No doctor visits to deal with the pin that’d been placed in my wrist or the trauma of what I’d dealt with.

Sitting here, watching these animals, I was able to escape thoughts of my ex. I didn’t have to think about him going to jail where he belonged. I didn’t have to think about Cheyenne and Dakota being in the hospital right beside me, my best friend suffering from a broken leg and a concussion while her brother had half his long, beautiful hair cut off when they had to shave his head to stop the bleeding in his brain.

I would have been content to watch my critters all day and likely would have had my phone not dinged with an incoming text.

Van: Be there in 5

Settling the tank lid closed, I turned to the window leading to the fire escape and unlocked it. A cold blast of Chicago’s winter air rushed into my apartment as I pushed it open. I stuck my head outside, wishing I’d put my coat on first, and glanced at the neon green dog food bowl I’d secured to the metal platform. In it sat a pop can tab and the lid to a beer bottle.

“Nice!” I grabbed the two shiny metal objects and tossed them in the basket on my table next to the window, then dropped three unsalted peanuts into the green bowl. “There you go, Frank.”

By the time I’d shut the window, grabbed my coat and purse, and hurried down the elevator to the front of my building, Van’s truck was waiting at the curb in the No Parking zone. I climbed inside and buckled in, then held my freezing hands up to the heat blasting through the vents.

My new friend and coworker waited until he’d pulled away from the curb and was stopped at the light at the end of the block to speak. “You okay?”

I clenched my fist again, then tried stretching my fingers as far as the pain would let me. “I will be once I get warm.”