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“Why don’t you and your friends cash out and get the hell out of here?” PJ said, his voice booming.

The man’s jaw dropped. He put his hands up, but backed away. “She’s nuts,” he said. “I think she’s drunk.”

He turned and went back out to the bar. I couldn’t take my back off the wall. I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other.

“Corrine,” PJ said gently. “What happened?”

I shook my head. “He just got too close. He was hitting on me.” PJ looked back down the hall.

“Corrine, that’s Jake Webber. He came in with Mitch Bernath. They’re both money guys. They’re potential investors.”

“He’s a creep,” I said.

“But you’re okay?”

Sylvie appeared. “What did you say to him?” she asked, her tone full of her usual judgment. “Webber and his companions just stormed out of here without paying their bill.”

“Nothing,” PJ said. “Just go back out there. Handle the hostess stand.”

Sylvie looked suspicious. She glared at me, but did as PJ asked.

“You don’t look well,” my brother said to me.

“Do you think I’m making it up?”

“No,” he said. “But I think you’ve been looking pretty ragged the last few days. Just go upstairs and get some rest. We can handle things down here. I’ll store your tips for you. Come find me in the morning and I’ll cash you out.”

“PJ…”

“Corrine, go. Get some rest.”

I hated that look in his eyes. Worry. Disappointment. He squeezed my shoulder and drew me in for a hug I didn’t want.

“We’ll talk in the morning, Sissy. I love you.” He kissed my cheek and left me there. I knew it was his way of trying to be supportive. But it made me feel eight years old again. Like I couldn’t handle anything. Like he thought he’d have to take care of me my entire life.

I should have ignored him. I should have gone right back out there and grabbed the next table. But my legs felt wobbly when I pushed myself off the wall.

“I’ll make you disappear.” His words reverberated through me, making my throat run dry. So, I untied my apron and left it on a hook in the break room. Then I took the backstairs up to my apartment.

It was pitch dark. I flicked the light switch and kicked off my sneakers. Already, my phone started blowing up with texts from Sylvie. I left her on read and plugged my phone into its charger by the coffee pot.

Would I ever feel normal again? Would I ever be able to be physically close to another man without feeling that suffocating panic? Had I misinterpreted or imagined Jake Webber’s behavior?

Maybe Sylvie was right. Maybe contacting the police again had been a big mistake. She warned me it would stir things up. I’d worked so hard to survive.

It was the right thing though. I had a chance to take back control. Make sure everyone knew the truth. Wasn’t I owed that?

I called out to my smart speakers as I plopped down on the couch. “Play evening meditation number three.”

I closed my eyes and listened to the countdown, focusing on my breathing. A moment later, the guided meditation started. I let the world fall away as I flexed and then relaxed each muscle of my body, starting with my toes.

My phone’s ring jarred me back to consciousness. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then I felt the soft corduroy pillow beneath my cheek. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. With the shades drawn, I had no idea what time it was.

I blinked to clear my head and then padded over to the phone. It was eight a.m. I had slept for over twelve hours. I also saw twelve unread messages, mostly from Sylvie.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Egan?” I hadn’t even looked at the caller ID, but I recognized his gruff voice.