Page 2 of Detached

But still, the guilt clawed at me. Because it hadn’t been enough. Sam had still gotten addicted to the drugs. We’d both inhaled them. Lived around them. Saw their effects, but I’d managed to walk away clean.

“Emma, please.” She grasped my wrists, drawing my attention to the tattoo there. The triangle with a circle around it, the one we both had, that we’d gotten together the last time she promised to stay sober.

Days before I moved away, thinking that finally she’d be okay without me. But she’d fallen again, and I hadn’t been here to pick her up. It was that regret that made me give in, like I always did.

“Okay, yeah.” I sighed, squeezing her hands. “If you need it.”

“Great.” She pulled me into a hug, all signs of her tears gone. “Well, I’m going to go.”

I should be used to the emotional whiplash by now, but somehow it always still surprised me. “I thought you wanted to help?”

She didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her purse, reaching inside for a pack of cigarettes. “You know I’m just in your way.” She was already lighting one and walking out the door as she called back. “Let me know when you send the money.”

I was left staring at the smoke in the air. I sometimes wondered if all I was to her was a bank. But it didn’t really matter. We’d lived in this pattern our whole lives, twenty-four years, and I’d never been able to rid myself of this guilt.

I always felt like I was failing her. Like I was seconds away from losing the only family I had. Then I would truly be alone in this world.

3

Emma

Istood, stretching my arms toward the ceiling. My neck cracked loudly as I tilted my head from side to side. I’d been up for hours organizing my new apartment. After two days, it finally looked like a place someone lived in instead of a storage unit.

But I was behind on work. Eventually I’d have to set up an area in the living room to use as a makeshift studio, but for now I pulled my laptop from my bag and placed it on the kitchen table.

It sat in the middle of the room; behind me was an L-shaped counter that served as my kitchen. To the left was a small living room with a couch, coffee table, and TV. Down the hall was my still unpacked bedroom and bathroom.

It was much smaller than my townhouse back in the tiny California town I’d moved from, but it would have to do. It was more expensive living in Sayton City than I thought it would be. I didn’t really have a choice anymore. Maybe I could return once I got Samantha back on track.

As soon as the screen lit up, I clicked open my editing software. The pictures I’d been working on filled the screen. Simple flat lays of lingerie I was photographing and editing for a website. It wasn’t my favorite thing to do.

There was no creativity in it. It was boring and sterile, but it would pay the bills until I could get my business up and running here. I loved being a boudoir photographer. I loved helping women find their sexuality again. Loved seeing them come alive as they posed for the camera.

Some of them did it because they’d lost themselves after having kids. Others as presents for their significant others. But they always walked away from the sessions with a new appreciation for how beautiful they were. How sexy and strong they could be.

And I always left inspired. Excited about helping someone.

I dreamed of having my own studio space for clients to come to. I wanted something historic and beautiful. With old brick and tons of natural light. I’d had a space all picked out in California. Ready to take the leap and invest my life savings, then Sam had called.

That was all gone now. It would be months, if not years, until I had enough. The money from the sale of my townhouse had gone to pay for Sam’s rehab. And my savings had gone into this move.

My mind turned over and over as I cleaned up the images on the screen. Fixing any flaws or shadows. Color correcting and adding text before I sent them off for a final proof.

But this job was only a few in the mountain I had to get done. The drive from California had put me back by days. I needed to finish at least half of them by the morning.

If I was going to get through any of them tonight, I would need some coffee. I’d seen a shop just around the corner when I’d come to sign the lease on the apartment. I gathered my keys and a jacket as I headed out the door. Not caring that I was wearing a pair of holey old leggings and a faded pink tank top that had seen better days.

I shivered as I walked the short distance. The night was just starting to cool off as the sun set, but I forgot how cold it could be in the Midwest. I’d grown up near here, but having spent the better part of five years in warmer climates, my body wasn’t used to it anymore.

A giant hot coffee was just what I needed to get through this night. It was a local shop with some silly catchy name that I’d already forgotten by the time I was pulling the door open. There were a few people working on laptops at the long counter facing the front window. The booths behind me were empty, and the chairs had been placed on top of the two tables in the center of the room. I guess they didn’t get a lot of traffic at this time of night.

I hardly noticed the guy in a business suit ordering in front of me as I waited. My mind had wandered back to Sam. Maybe I should get her landlord’s information and send him the money directly. That amount she’d asked for could mean she’d fallen off the wagon and was using again.

I rubbed between my eyes; my head pounded beneath my fingers. But I couldn’t tell if it was the lack of sleep. The need for caffeine. Or the stress.

“Ma’am!”

I blinked at the loud voice, realizing the man in front of me had ordered, and now everyone was waiting for me to move.

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