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“Dallas and Nat, dig a little deeper. Use the new information we have to find out more.”
“Already on it.” Natalie’s fingers fly over her keyboard.
“I’ll be back,” I announce as I push up to my feet. “I need a breather.”
I’m not sure where I’m going, but for once, I feel a pressing need to get out of this hotel.
TEAGAN
While poking it with my spoon, I stare at the oatmeal-filled glass bowl, wondering if my life will ever feel whole again.
Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that we used to be a happy family—my parents, Jase, and myself. We didn’t have much, and like every teenager, I used to complain, and just like every other parent, mine used to tell me, “You don’t know how good you have it.” It took death to make me realize they were right. I didn’t realize how great my life was until everything changed.
Like a bowl filled with happiness, contentment, and endless opportunity that crashes to the ground unexpectedly and shatters into a thousand pieces that can never be put together again.
Just when I thought I managed to get over the pain of losing my parents, that wound is ripped open once more. He broke my heart beyond repair. I know I should not feel that way. Shit, I barely knew the guy. Saying I will never love again sounds ridiculous, even in my head.
Love… I snort. I didn’t even know I loved him until I realized he hated me.
I will never forget the moment I woke up in a hospital bed alone. He just left me there. Yes, he saved my life, but then he abandoned me. Discarded me like I was nothing to him. He kicked Jase and me out with no explanation. He didn’t even let me pack up my stuff. My drawings are lost… again.
It’s almost like the universe is telling me to give up on the book.
Message received, universe. Loud and clear.
The day after he threw us to the curb, someone dropped off an envelope with my cell, but nothing else. I check my phone for the twentieth time in the last hour. No calls. No texts. Yes, he broke my heart, and I shouldn’t even hope for him to contact me, but what can I say, love makes you stupid. Part of me holds on to the dumb fantasy that it was all a big misunderstanding. Any minute now, my cell is going to go crazy, or even better, he’ll show up at my door, falling on his knees, begging me for forgiveness.
Yeah right.
I’d like to think that his apology would be enough to mend the gaping wound in my chest, but deep down, I know that will never be enough.
“You know that oatmeal will fill you up better if you actually eat it.” Ainsley scowls at me from the couch. “All you do is push it around with your spoon.” I almost forgot she was here. She has been unusually quiet for the last few days. “Who eats oatmeal for dinner anyway?”
“I’m just not hungry.” I shrug. “And there is really nothing else to push around my bowl.”
“You gotta eat something,” Ainsley presses on. Her phone rings. She picks it up and huffs when she reads the message. “I have to go to work for a few hours. Someone just called in sick. How about I bring you some Chinese takeout home for an actual dinner? I’ll get your favorite.”
“Sure, why not.” I try to smile, but it feels so forced.
I watch as Ainsley gets ready for work in a hurry before rushing out. I look down at my cold oatmeal that’s been sitting out so long it’s starting to dry out and crust on the edge.
Getting up, I discard my bowl in the sink. My stomach feels empty, but every time I try putting something in my mouth, I just want to gag. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not hungry since I don’t have money to fill up the fridge again. I lost my job at the grocery store, and I haven’t even reached out to the bar I work at on the weekends.
Checking my phone yet again, I notice the time and realize I could go over there now and ask if I still have a job. Angela is pretty old-school. I know if I send her a text, there’s no way she’ll give me another shot, and she hates talking on the phone, especially when she’s already open.
All righty, Teagan, you can do this.
I give myself a little pep talk before getting dressed, combing my hair for the first time today, and slipping into my sneakers. Making sure I have my phone, wallet, and keys on me, I walk outside, locking the door behind me.
It’s not dark outside yet, but a chill in the air has me pulling my sweater jacket a bit tighter. I pick up my speed, walking at a fast pace down the sidewalk. Shooters—the bar I work at—is only four blocks away, but today, the distance seems farther than before.
