AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You too, drive safe!”
I pick up my stack of tips and stuff them in my back pocket. I made almost $300 tonight, which is awesome for a Sunday night. As I turn off the lights and lock the front door, I decide I’ll run a nice hot bath and maybe even shave my legs, just so I can rub them together like a cricket when I climb into my bed with clean sheets. Tomorrow’s my day off, so I can sleep in as late as I want.
Fate, however, has different plans for me.
When I climb the stairs, I hear knocking. As I make it to the top step, I recognize the woman, she’s back. She’s not pounding on his door like before, but she’s not giving up even though it’s almost two in the morning. If she’s so obsessed with him, why doesn’t she realize they played an away game tonight? I will not let this woman’s issues interrupt my sleep again.
“He’s not home,” I say dryly, pulling out my keys to unlock my apartment.
When she turns around to look at me, I almost flinch.
I know that look. The pale face and hollow cheekbones.
He looked just like her.But I had to go to work. Our bills were behind, and the electricity was about to be shut off that week. I’m done blaming myself for his choices, but it still doesn’t heal the memory of seeing Kyle’s once-sparkling eyes glazed, dull, and staring right through me.
That relationship started so great. He was funny, smart, and kind. He was supposed to be “the one.” I loved him. But after being prescribed pain pills for a twisted ankle—a fucking twisted ankle—he was hooked. That was all it took for him to turn mean and angry. He was a jerk. I continued to care for him, but the only thing he cared about was the high. The doctors kept writing the prescriptions. Until they didn’t. And then he was forced to find them elsewhere.
I tried so hard to keep him clean, but it was like trying to bail out a boat already submerged underwater. There’s not a person on this earth that could have made him stop craving the drugs. I was powerless against his addiction. Opioids and I were in constant competition for his attention, and in the end, they won—and I lost the person I loved more than anything. It’s why I refuse to go back to Seattle. I can’t go back there without being reminded of him. It’s too painful.
Everything in me says to get in my apartment, shut the door, and pretend I never saw her. I promised myself I wouldn’t ever get involved with someone with addiction issues. Platonic or otherwise. I can’t go through that again. It reminds me so much of everything I went through. There’s an anger in me that still hasn’t gone away.
But I can’t ignore her. She’s dope sick and craving.
She sneezes.
“Do you need help?” I ask.
“You got any money?”
Color me surprised.
“No.” Suddenly it feels like there’s a neon sign pointing at the wad of cash in my back pocket. I can’t let her see it.
“Do you know when my brother is getting home?”
Shit.
“Wait, Rhys is yourbrother?”
“Yeah.”
For the first time, I feel some sympathy toward him. Loving an addict is a fucking nightmare. It’s a burden impossible to let go of. Your heart is tethered to a sinking ship. I guess this goes to show you never know what someone else is going through. Maybe that’s why he’s always such a dick. If so, I can’t blame him. During those dark years, I was miserable. Constantly stressed out and worrying. Wondering when he would get home and how long he would stay for. Never knowing whether he was safe or even alive.
“Do you have his phone number?”
“I sold my phone.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Besides drugs, that was Kyle’s most prized possession. It was his connection to his dealer. It’s practically a lifeline for addicts. She sneezes again, and seeing how runny her eyes are makes me wince. I’m thrown into my past when I notice she’s sweating through her shirt. She stinks. I can smell her from ten feet away.
I don’t know anything about this girl, she can’t be over twenty years old, and she’s in a bad way. Detoxing alone can be deadly, and I know she’ll run if I even mention calling 911. I have to ease her into it. When I take inventory of her symptoms, I know I’ve already chosen to help her. I’ve done this before; I can do it again.Just this once.I’ve been in enough therapy to know I need to set boundaries. I’m not responsible for her. She’s not my sister.
But she is Rhys’s, and I can’t let his sister die on his doorstep.
“What’s your name?”
“Anna,” she rasps.
“Are you on anything right now? Taking anything?” She looks at me nervously, probably suspicious I’m a cop.
