“You two aren’t the masterminds that you think you are. All the people you blindsided before were amateurs and not as observant as me. I learned not to trust people a long time ago, and when he first came to my house for dinner, he had this nervous twitch in his eyes.”
“He gave everything away on the surface.”
He nods, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Midway, he got up to use the restroom and left his phone behind. He made mistake after mistake, and that’s when I found the messages. Your little plan.”
My heart stops. “He was your first patient.”
“I’d hardly consider him that now. You make me realize more and more every day that he never came close. He was a pathetic placeholder that I wish I could have skipped all together. Nothing will ever compare to the real thing.” He tries to press his lips on my neck but I pull away.
“Don’t. He got the same deal as me.” I’m no more special to him than I was to Stephen.
“No, baby. He didn’t. He was to be my patient, yes, but only until I found someone better. He was my way to practice so I could ensure I was perfect for you. It didn’t matter if I messed up with him, but it matters if that happens with you.”
I swallow the thickness in my throat. “You don’t miss him?” What is wrong with me? This man tricked me. He made me feel like I owed him when I never did. He has his stuff and was okay with putting it at risk for something better. What if he does that to me?
He scoffs. “If anything, I regret all our interactions together. He was a waste of my time and is now the reason you’re pulling away from me. Don’t let him come between us. Don’t let him ruin anything else for you. Come back to me. Come back to leaning in and reaching my way.”
“Maybe we can make a new deal,” I say without considering my own words.
“What kind of deal?”
“They both got away and are living their best life.”
“I can promise you they aren’t.”
“What do you mean?” My own words echo in my ears.
“They wouldn’t leave things alone. At least your little friend wouldn’t. He kept asking if we were good. If I needed anything else from him. I told him no and he kept acting like he needed more reassurance, saying he didn’t want any problems later. So I reported a drug deal happening at the place they were staying, planting heroin and fentanyl in every room.”
“They lost the apartment?” A hint of satisfaction stirs inside me.
“Yes, and when I blocked his number, he emailed me asking about you. Something he had no right to do. I don’t think your ex knew about me. He assumed you were sitting in a prison cell, notin someone else’s house and bed. They aren’t happy, I promise you that. They aren’t even serving time at the same location.”
“But they’ll eventually get out, won’t they?” What they’re going through isn’t enough. My friend willingly gave me to another person. He was worse than Stephen, because he knew what kind of man Sam was and was easily able to switch places if it meant he was free from the deal they made.
I don’t think he counted on me asking to prolong it or to feel at home here more than I have anywhere else. He didn’t count on still feeling like he was missing out on something that I had. So predictable and pathetic. I thought I was the loser in this situation, but in his eyes I’ll always win because I was born the person he’d always want to switch places with. He didn’t want Stephen any more than he wanted to be Sam’s patient. He didn’t know what he wanted or how to be his own person.
“What do you think we should do about it?” His warm breaths on my neck have me pressing into his hand this time.
“I don’t know. We can’t do much as long as he’s in there.” That’s when what he said hits me.We. What shouldwedo about it? Because that’s what we are. A half the other needs to be whole. He orchestrated this whole thing, and I was never getting out of this house without eventually coming right back. It shakes me to the core, and I’ve never felt so unsettled, never so scared for my future, and it’s riveting.
I oddly need more of it. Sam really is a bad guy, worse than me and my friend combined, but he’s my doctor and I still need treatment. The dizzy spells tell me that and so do the headaches I’m getting from going too long without my pain meds.
He can help me with all that. And then he said something that makes me realize he has the perfect prescription to take care of something else too.
“I have a friend who’s a nurse practitioner at the prison. We met in college. He’s a lot like me. I think he can help with our little problem.”
A smile ghosts over my face. “And I think my friend needs a good nurse while he’s there.”
***
Sam makes a few phone calls, and while he waits to hear back from his contact, I ask him some more questions. I need to know almost everything. Only almost. I can feel he’s keeping things from me that need to stay hidden. I look in the trash, at the breathing tubes, and a chill comes over me. He hasn’t used them on me while awake, but he couldn’t have used them on anyone else either. He’d never cross-contaminate. He’d also never have another patient here again. Only me.
“When did he mention my name to you?”
He accompanies me to the couch, handing me a cup of hot tea. “He didn’t. When I said he wasn’t holding up his end the way I needed him to and was about to dial the cops, he stopped me, saying he’d find me someone else.”
“And then he gave you my info?”
