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“Fraid not, honey. Come. Sit. Laugh with us.” That last command was a little forceful and I’m convinced that Lonnie—although pretty hammered—is babysitting.
Rage starts to build, but I keep my cool. “Oh, well, you’re the boss.” I laugh. “I’ll just go make another drink.”
Lonnie gives me a thumbs-up and returns to explaining to Charlie why all men are filth.
I move into the kitchen, feeling like a prisoner.
How did it come to this?
My only two friends in the world are completely sloshed and I have no place to go. No one to turn to. The one man I trust with my life abandoned me when I needed him the most.
But I can’t focus on that.
I can’t crumble right now.
I won’t have another episode. I just need to breathe. Long. Deep. Breaths.
The laughing in the background is not helping. I start up the blender with ice and leave it as I move to the door. I lift my shoes off the floor and leave my purse. I’ll only be a minute.
I don’t need a man to keep me safe. I never did. But now I have people like Lonnie thinking I’m a danger to myself if I step out without one by my side.
Well, she’s wrong.
I got myself into this mess and if I could just have some space to think…I can figure out a way to get myself out of it.
It’s after nine p.m. and cold outside. But at least it’s busy. A busy neighborhood is ideal right now. Less chance of being spotted if I’m mixed in with a crowd.
I wrap Lonnie’s wool coat around me, since it was the closest thing to the exit when I snuck out. I keep my hair tucked inside it and lift the collar.
After a few minutes of wandering, my mind is blank. I’m too emotional to think straight. My heart hurts. But not from Chase’s lies to get me here. It’s the sense of abandonment I’ve never been able to get past. Not knowing what happened to my parents.
The guilt of wishing each time…that they were, in fact, dead.
Because they’d never have the strength to leave me.
It’s stupid that these feelings are hitting me so hard right now.
When it feels like the man that I’d fallen for left me with the next best thing because he couldn’t change his plans.
He didn’t choose me.
No one ever did.
Not even Troy. Who already planned our divorce before our wedding day.
I spot a bar across the intersection and head toward it. There’s a car that starts moving the moment I do, but I’m sure it’s just me being paranoid. Troy’s people are searching Hideaway for me.
Not some side street in Denver.
Hideaway. Someone in town had taken that photo and sent it in. Who could have done that?
I might never know.
I step into the warm bar, relieved for the large crowd. I weave through and settle myself on a corner of the square bar.
The bartender hands me a menu and walks away. I don’t look at it. I don’t have my wallet, so I’ll be ordering a glass of water.
“This seat taken?”
