I looked down at my hands. If not for the medications, I’d feel the familiar shake, the need to pick up the bottle and drown the uncomfortable with the warm liquid.
The person I was when I was with her and the person I’d worked so hard to become since then felt like two entirely different lifetimes. The guilt, the shame—they were always there, shadows that threatened to resurface if I dwelled too long on them. I couldn’t let myself go there.
“Anyway,” Dirks said, patting my shoulder. “You date any LA girls?”
I laughed, grateful for the shift in conversation. “Nah, I’m not really interested in dating anyone. The next person I’m with, I want it to be forever.”
“Ah.” Dirks pushed himself off the boards and headed toward the locker room. “So, you and your right hand have a special bond, huh?”
I burst out laughing, trailing behind him as we stepped off the ice. “This was fun.”
“It really was.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a reminder for my doctor’s appointment to renew my prescriptions and set up my therapy sessions. “I’ve got to head out, but we should do this again sometime.”
“Definitely,” Dirks chuckled, pulling me into a quick hug before heading into the locker room.
I’d spent so many nights lying awake, convinced that returning meant I’d fall back into the same destructive patterns—the ones that nearly broke me. I was an addict, after all, and that part of me would never vanish.
4
charlie
“You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself, stepping back to take in all my hard work.
After two full days of setting up my classroom, it was finished.
“Wow. It’s like a craft store exploded in here,” a cheerful voice called out from the doorway.
I turned to see a woman standing there, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Is it too much?” I was suddenly nervous that maybe it was.
I turned back to my classroom. The space was bright and lively, filled with all the colors I could manage to cram into one room. Multi-colored rugs marked the reading area, play corner, and learning zone. Soft, warm lamps stood in place of the harsh fluorescents, and every inch of the walls was covered with cheerful posters—alphabet letters, numbers, inspirational quotes, and cut-out shapes in every shade imaginable. It was chaotic.
The woman laughed, stepping fully into the room. “No, it’s amazing. I’m teasing. It’s clear you put a lot of love into this.” She extended her hand with an easy smile. “Hi, I’m Jennifer, but everyone calls me Jennie.”
Her dark hair was pulled up into a loose bun, a few stray curls framing her face. Faint freckles dusted her nose, and her smile was bright, the kind that instantly put you at ease.
“Hi, Jennie.” I took her hand, returning her smile. “I’m Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.”
Jennie narrowed her eyes playfully. “Not from around here, huh?”
I laughed, my Southern drawl slipping. “What gave it away? The accent?”
Jennie grinned. “Just a little bit. Welcome to the Midwest.”
“Thank you,” I said as I straightened my blouse.
“Moved here for family?”
“Nope. I wanted a change of pace.”
“Huh. That’s the first time I’ve heard someone moving to the suburbs of Chicago who had no ties here.”
Jennie seemed likable and honest, which was refreshing.
“The big city felt too big and the country was too small, so this was where I landed.” I laughed. “Plus, the pay in this district was a huge motivating factor.”
