But as time wore on, my memories of a “better time” were becoming harder and harder to recall.
Now all that was left was a suffocating need toescape.
And the realization that no matter how hard I tried, my parents and I were trapped in an unending cycle of grief, guilt, and bitter resentment.
Tigger meowed noisily at my feet, indicating it was time that I fed him. On autopilot I filled his food bowl and walked into the living room.
Coming to Richmond had felt like the right plan. I had needed a new start. I had also needed distance. But with the way things had been going so far, I wasn’t entirely sure I had made the right decision.
I thought about Hannah, the woman I had met that morning. I was supposed to meet her again tomorrow. I thought briefly about standing her up.
I wasn’t in a position to start anything with anyone. My disastrous situation with Madison was proof that I was a fucking mess when it came to women.
What would be the point of leading her on when I knew that, in the end, one—or both—of us would end up hurt or disappointed?
But there was something about this new woman that had me discarding all of my hesitations. Call it instinct, but I wanted to see where things headed.
I had built my career on reading situations. On following my nose down the rabbit hole and coming out on the other side. And something inside me told me not to dismiss Hannah.
That she might be exactly what I was looking for.
I thought about her easy smile. How quickly I had engaged in simple, uncomplicated conversation.
Maybe a date or two would be all right.
Just to see…
I closed the case file and shoved it back in my bag, my eyes feeling heavy. I had a brief moment of hope. Perhaps I’d finally be able to fall asleep without tossing and turning for hours.
Maybe, just maybe, I could find rest without the nightmares.
Without the guilt that raged and raged.
I turned off all the lights and went into the bathroom. I washed up. Brushed my teeth. Changed into my pajamas. Each step carried out exactly as I did it each and every night. No deviation.
A therapist I had seen briefly when my insomnia had reached critical levels had suggested that a nightly routine would get my mind ready for sleep. In much the same way mothers bathed and read to their toddlers before tucking them in, I tried to find ways to unwind. Simple things that I could focus on instead.
It never worked.
As on every night for the last twelve months, as I lay in bed, my eyes on the ceiling above me, my mind drifted to Dillon.
The last conversation we had before he died.
The promises I had made but never kept.
My grief was my consistent companion.
I loved my brother, but I wished that for one night I could forget.
But memories weren’t forgiving.
And they wouldn’t let me go.
Chapter 4
Hannah
“Hey, sis. Sorry I haven’t been by in a while.” I pulled up a chair beside Charlotte’s bed and tried to get comfortable. It was hard, though. The coarse material of the seat scratched against the backs of my legs, making me feel itchy.
