Of course, I didn’t realize at the time, but he used the money he earned from selling drugs to set me up with dog food, a plush bed, crate, leash, and license for the fur-ball.
Now, she’s all I have left of him. My little dog and the bracelet he wore every day for two months.
I don’t know how to cry. If I start, I have this irrational fear I won’t ever stop. So now, I just sit with Pixel, burying my face in her fur, with this lump in my throat I can’t seem to force away.
The image of the drug paraphernalia haunts me. After Mom disappeared, Z and I made one vow to each other.
Never break a promise.
Our only rule. When he was using, strung out, working for some Russian kingpin selling drugs to school kids all across St. Petersburg and lying about where he was, he kept telling me he’d get clean. But he never used those two little words.
“I promise.”
I begged him every time he called me—not that he reached out very often.“Promise me, Z.”
But he never did.
Until he came home. Escaped. Saved up enough for a flight back to the United States and showed up at my apartment at 3:00 a.m., shaking, sweating, and almost passing out at my door.
“Z. Holy Fudgsicles. What—?”
“Help me.”
And then…our last conversation.“I’m never going back to that life, Wren. I promise.”
I promise.
“So much for promises, Z.” I swallow my sob and press a quick kiss to the top of Pixel’s furry head. “It’s just us now, baby girl.”
She whines, and I think, maybe…just maybe she understands my pain.
* * *
After I sendDax a quick email, letting him know I won’t be in today because I need to start packing up Zion’s apartment, I bundle Pixel into her harness and head for the outskirts of Back Bay. I don’t want to go. Heck, in the past two hours, I’ve cleaned my bathroom, gone through a whole pile of junk mail, and dusted the top of the fridge.
But I can’t put this off any longer. When he didn’t show up at his trial, the police issued a warrant for his arrest and searched his place. No drugs. No indication he was backsliding at all.
I kept up with the rent. Always hoping he’d come back to me. But now… The prospect of talking to his landlord fills me with dread. As we exit the T, Pixel yips at me, sitting up on her haunches and begging as she catches the scent of barbecue from the shop on the corner. “You ate this morning, little miss.”
Though…I didn’t. And the sweet and spicy scent calls to me.“You should try the brisket, sis. It’s just like mom used to make.”
Probably why Zion picked this apartment building. That and the reduced rent they offered to halfway house graduates. “Fine. But you only get one piece,” I say as I urge Pixel down the street. Once she’s tied up outside, I venture into a tiny, hole-in-the-wall space jam-packed with tables. And no customers. Of course, it’s only a little after eleven.
“Can I get a brisket plate to go? And a side of burnt ends?” I ask when a tired looking young man stifles a yawn behind the register.
“Sure. That’ll be ten minutes.”
As I turn over my credit card, the cashier stares at my name. “Wren Kane? Are you Z’s sister?”
“Y-yes. You know—?” The lump in my throat threatens to choke me before I can correct myself. No oneknowsZion anymore. We all…knew him.
“I haven’t seen him around in a few weeks. Is he okay?”
My legs start to feel like wet noodles, and I brace myself against the counter. “No,” I whisper. “He’s…he’s gone.”
The kid—he can’t be much older than twenty-three—skirts the counter and takes my arm to help me into a chair. “You don’t look so good.”
For some reason, that strikes me as the funniest thing I’ve heard in two days. I can’t help laughing until a rough sob escapes my throat. Still…no tears. God, I wish I could cry. “I’m sorry. I haven’t slept. I’m not…dang it.” Bracing my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands as the kid shifts from foot to foot next to me. When I finally manage to rein in my emotions, I wipe my cheeks, amazed they’re dry.
