“This here riverbank? It’s the safest place in the whole galaxy, Patrick Moore.”
I couldn’t do it here. Couldn’t do that to her. To our place.
I reared my head out of the loop so fast I stumbled backward and busted my butt on a rock. The rope silently swung out over the water, oblivious to its potential.
I scrambled to standing and jogged back to the house, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between me and that terrible rope.
Me and Gracie.
Heck, me and the past. If that was possible.
A hot shower helped ease the chest pains and made breathing a bit easier. I dried off and fell onto my bed. The quiet house was another prison—an unrelenting reminder of everything I screwed up. Despite my exhaustion, I knew a night of insomnia loomed before me. Trying to sleep was pointless.
I picked up my iphone and looked up Danny’s contact the T-Mobile employee had plugged in for me.
Pressed call.
His gruff voice answered after only two rings. “Little late for calls.”
“Danny, it’s Pat.”
The line was silent for a moment. “You in trouble again?”
“No. No. Just calling to see if Carl still needed a roommate.”
He huffed. “Figured you wouldn’t last long over there.”
“Will you keep looking after things if I go?”
“You know I will, boy.”
TWO
Julia
My boss’s office was minimalistic, with dark mahogany furniture and a single pot of pothos on a floating shelf. Functional and straightforward, much like herself. The large window overlooked the streets of downtown Nashville, winding through the maze of high rises. We were a stone’s throw away from the Batman building. Looking out her window on a blue-skied day was magical; it took my breath every time. But not today. Today it was a fuzzy backdrop.
“I’m concerned about you.”
I tapped my pen on the table, focusing on the spring releasing the ink cartridge. She had caught wind of my recent shenanigans and wasn’t too happy about it. There was no reason for her to be concerned though. I took some risks and didn’t plan on doing it again. The DUI was none of her business.
When Kenzie had phoned my desk and asked me to stop in after five, I knew something was wrong. We’d been friends for a long time. If she wanted to chit-chat or talk numbers, she would’ve stopped by my desk as she breezed through the office. The call had set me fretting the entire day. My midsection was knotted from stress-eating during my late lunch.
“You need to take some time off.”
I stopped studying the Inkjoy in my hands and lifted my eyes to meet hers. I had expected a lecture, but not this. Surely she was joking. “I need more work, not less.”
Kenzie took a deep breath, prepared for my immediate rebuttal. “I insist you take some leave for your mental health.”
“Leave?”
“Eight weeks.”
My stomach clenched in protest. Objections fired in my mind, and my heart rate picked up speed. What on earth would I do for eight whole weeks? “Kenzie, I need this job for so many reasons. I couldn’t possibly stay away that long.”
Kenzie’s quiet demeanor enhanced her strong personality. She had no problem running a company and sticking to her guns.
She started the lecture. “I’m not just your boss, Jules. I’m saying this as your friend. You are not okay, and you need to stop pretending like you are.” She folded her hands across the top of the mahogany desk, her shoulder pads rising an inch as she leaned forward. “What you need is rest, therapy, and time to adjust to life on your own.”
