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The hard part about the process was finding worth in the events of my current life.
You didn’t take a drink last night when you easily could’ve.
That much was true. The bottle had been right there acting like an escape route straight to numbville.
You saved that grumpy cat’s life.
I laughed out loud at the thought, thinking that was a stretch. I’m sure the feral beast would’ve gotten the jar off somehow.
“What’s so funny?” Persephone asked gently.
“Last night,” I said, shaking my head. “It was eventful.”
“WasLyla’s Placepacked?”
“It’s almost always packed,” I answered. “Her food is really that good. But no, it was what happened after work.”
After work.
I don’t think I’ve ever uttered those words before in my life, and they filled me with the oddest little sensation—pride?
Maybe. I wasn’t entirely sure what it felt like to be really proud of something.
“What happened?”
I relayed the events of last night to my sister, her NHL Carolina Reaper husband coming in midway through the story.
Cannon immediately took a seat on the armrest of the couch, close enough to slide his hand lovingly down Persephone’s back. The move was so effortless it almost looked like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Those two were the real deal, something I’d grossly mistaken when I’d met Cannon weeks ago.
“And the officer just let you go?” Cannon asked, his tone in the usual deep tenor that bordered on this side of gruff. After getting to know him, I understood it wasn’t personal, it was just his voice. He was like the scary big brother I never had.
“He did,” I said, having left out the part about the officer being my ex-boyfriend. It was instinct to keep anything that mattered to me to myself, because the things I valued often had a way of getting tainted by my family, whether by their disapproval or their indifference.
But that was then.
This was now.
I shifted on my seat, focusing on my sister. “It was Jim.”
Her lips parted, and Cannon’s brow furrowed as he took in her shock.
“Who is Jim?” Cannon asked when Sephie seemed too stunned to speak.
“Oh, Anne,” she said. “How was it seeing him again?”
“Hard,” I admitted, my heart sighing a little at being able to be open and honest with my sister after so many years of strain between us. Thanks to therapy, it was getting easier for me to separate my trauma from my sister who had no hand in it, and moreso, didn’t evenknowabout it.
“I can’t imagine,” she said. “How did he look?” She raised her brows, practically starving for details.
“Really good.” I laughed. “Too good. He’s got this whole Jack Ryan thing going on now.”
A warm shiver raced down the center of my body with the thought of last night. Jim was all man now, the only pieces of the teenager I’d known flickering in his green eyes. Carved muscles filled out his police officer’s uniform, and the dark full beard over his strong jaw was a new kind of kryptonite I didn’t know I had.
“Who the hell is Jim?” Cannon asked, his features full of curiosity that only made me laugh harder. Sephie told me the Reapers were just as gossipy as we were.
“He’s an old friend of Anne’s,” Sephie explained.
“An old boyfriend?” Cannon asked.
