Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
“You’re afraid you’re going to hurt someone or yourself?”
I nod.
“Which one?”
“Both,” I whisper as our food arrives.
After we eat for a few minutes without speaking, Terrance glances up at me, wiping his mouth. “How are you and Colten?”
“Over.”
“Why?”
I give him a look. He can’t be that stupid.
“Did he end it, or did you?”
“I ended it.”
“Why?”
“Terry, you can’t really be asking me this.”
“I am. You’ve always talked fondly of Colten. The love of your life. Your best friend since the fourth grade. I wouldn’t normally advocate anyone using another person to give them purpose or reason for their existence. But in your case, I’m inclined to make an exception. Maybe instead of distancing yourself, you should…” he twists his lips “…lean in a bit.”
“Lean in a bit?” I narrow my eyes. “That’s your brilliant, a-decade-of-medical-school advice to me. Lean in?”
He offers a half shrug before taking a bite of his food. “Let him help you through this. You trust him. He might be the perfect person to get you through the rough patch.”
“The rough patch? You are definitely not getting dessert out of this. I think about dead girls all day and all night. It’s not a rough patch. It’s unimaginable mental anguish.”
“Maybe consider changing your profession or taking more time off. Give yourself more opportunities to not see or think about the deceased. Memories, real or not, are imperfect. They fade whether we want them to or not. Time is your friend.”
“I’m not changing professions. I love my job.”
“Then lean into that. Are you back to work?”
I nod. “Today was my first day back.”
“And it went well?”
My gaze shifts to my plate. “It went … fine.”
“What’s that pause about?”
On a sigh, I glance up at him. “The chief ME hovered over me all day, making sure I was okay to be back at work. And I was. I did everything right. I didn’t need any help. But …”
“But?”
“Mid-morning, I had a mini breakdown or panic attack. I couldn’t get Winston Jeffries out of my mind. And then I started questioning if I should be back at work yet … or ever. I started to feel like a fraud. What would people think of me if they knew my secret?”
“This doesn’t have to be something you’re hiding. That implies you have accountability. This is something you’re working through. It’s nobody’s business but yours. No accountability. No need to feel like a fraud.”
I consider his words.
At the same time, I see naked girls, heads shaved, in a pile awaiting burial.
I was one sick fuck …
After dinner, I get Terry a cab, but I can’t go home.
How did I survive seventeen years without him?
When life hits an impasse, when the air gets too thick, when I can’t find my way, I navigate to him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Josie’s car is in my driveway when I get home just before ten-thirty at night. I make a slow trek to the door, wondering what’s brought her here. It’s been a long fucking day thinking about our silent interaction at the county medical examiner’s office. I was a little surprised to see her during my quick visit with one of the other MEs. I thought she had one more week before returning to work.
Has she read my notes? Kept them? Ripped them apart? Lit them on fire?
The door opens to silence. There’s a light on over the kitchen sink, but she’s nowhere in sight. When I reach the top of the stairs while loosening my tie, I see her curled into a ball on my bed, hugging my pillow.
I skipped dinner, and now I’m starving. I could use a shower, and my teeth need to be brushed and flossed. But I can’t make it past the bed. The floor creaks beneath me when I take a step closer, and Josie jumps.
Her tired eyes blink open after she sits up and rubs them several times. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi.” I sit on the edge of the bed, angling slightly toward her.
“My uh … psychiatrist …” She crawls toward me.
I grab her hips as she straddles my lap, dark hair stuck to her face that she doesn’t bother to address. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her when I know she’s not well.
“He told me to lean in.”
I nod slowly. “Lean in, huh?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, brushing her hands over the back of mine and interlacing our fingers while bringing my palms to her face. “Can I lean into you?” Her head tips to the side, leaning in to my touch.
My lips find hers, kissing her slowly. Her hands slide to my tie, removing it and letting it drop to the floor before working the buttons to my shirt. Our kiss grows stronger as she pushes my shirt over my shoulders.
One by one, our clothes get tossed aside until it’s just us, the sheets, and the rest of the night.