Nothing like that had happened in Willingsworth, of course—no doubt because Daniel perfected his cheating game after I walked in on him—but, even so, we weren’t headed anywhere good.
After the bypass was put in and tourists stopped passing through town, all of the businesses and incomes dried up, so a new business had taken over the town. One we all knew about, but never spoke of in public.
Drugs.
I slowed before my turn, eyeing my apartment building looming in the distance.
Nicky loitered on the street corner, expertly faking at being nonchalant while he messed around with his phone—texting his bosses above whether the coast was clear.
Not that clear,I thought, sliding a look in the other direction to my diner.
The same diner that I broke down in front of—owned by the same couple who showed me even more kindness by offering me a job. For a whole year, life was pretty nice.
That was until Maybelle and Charles Mills retired and left the business to their devil spawn.
Now I got to spend my days enduring Dan’s leering while serving two undercover cops who couldn’t remember to leave their badges in the car while they spent all day posted up in the diner across the street from a known drug den.
Sighing, I turned at the green light—heading for my craphole above the drug den.
Parking, I got out of my car, fished out my bag, and climbed the stairs without looking left, right, up, down, or even straight ahead for too long.
One thing I learned the hard way about drug dealers, they’re real fucking paranoid. They don’t like people who stare.
I made it to my apartment unaccosted and shoved inside. Looking around, I sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time in an hour. I was being generous when I called this place a shithole.
The gross, puke-green wallpaper peeled off the walls, revealing the even grosser poop-brown paint underneath. The laminate floors were cracking. There was no hot water in the kitchen. There was something that very much did not like being disturbed living under my sink, and the black mold creeping up my bedroom walls forced me to sleep on my threadbare, falling-apart living room couch.
I tried for something resembling positivity as I changed out of my clothes and began preparing lunch. Setting my phone down on the table, I pressedrecord,then began my daily mantra.
“I am in control of my life. No one makes me their victim. No one has power over me that I don’t give them. Soon, I will have a job that fulfills me, a home that delights me, a family that loves me, and a love that completes me.”
I repeated that three times while I brought the glass noodles to a boil. By the final time, I almost believed it.
“First, Dr. Cormac didn’t say it was impossible. All he said was I neededto stump up the cash, which I knew,” I cried. “I knew IVF would be expensive, I just didn’t know how expensive. Either way, I was always going to run into this issue, so instead of wallowing, I need to figure out how to make it work.
“There has to be a way I can come up with thirty thousand dollars. Some way... Something...”
I trailed off, letting my mind focus on chopping the vegetables so I could pretend I wasn’t stumped.
“I’ve got to think of something,” I whispered. “This is one dream I can have. I won’t let money of all things stand in my way.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“You’re early.” Setting down the knife, I padded out of the kitchen and unlocked the door. “Lunch isn’t ready, Nicky, but I’m making your favorite,” I tossed over my shoulder as I returned to my meal. “Japchae. And yes, I’m leaving out the mushrooms, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t taste as good without them.”
“I don’t know,” replied a voice that definitely did not belong to a fifteen-year-old boy. “I’m kind of partial to mushroom-free japchae myself.”
I spun around, heart shooting into my throat. Our eyes connected... and I stopped.
My lungs stopped expanding. My heart stopped pumping. My mind held fast—stuck in this one moment and single realization that I was looking at me.
Long, shining, healthy hair flowing past my shoulders. Designer cashmere dress clinging to a body thin and toned from exercise and healthy eating, and not from skipping meals to make rent. Makeup applied with an expert hand. Orange lipstick both bold and suitable in how perfectly it drew attention to my mouth—
—until I looked at that mouth, and saw its smirk.
I snapped back, gasping as air, blood, and sense rushed into me once again—jolting me to reality.
“What the fuck are you doing here!”
