I shake my head. “Let’s get it over with. There is no use in postponing the inevitable. If it isn’t today, it’ll be tomorrow or the day after.”
Sam nods. “I am still here, baby girl. And I’m not going anywhere.”
I love Sam. She’s amazing as far as aunts go. She’s my mother's twin sister, and we've always been close. She’s been more like a sister to me than an aunt, and I am grateful for her love. Her presence makes it easier to breathe, but she’s not Mama. She doesn’t have the same sparkle in her eyes when she looks at me. She doesn’t know that I wanted Hermione to be with Harry instead of Ron. Sam doesn’t know that I don’t hate Cal fromTitanic, but that Rose annoys me the most. Those are things Mama knew and related to. I walk to the fireplace and look at the last picture I took of my parents. They didn’t know I was watching them dance. I framed it for their anniversary. I wonder why of all the cars on that road, theirs had to be hit by that truck. What if they’d decided to stay a little longer at the restaurant or not go at all? What if I’d insisted that they go away for the weekend like they usually did, that it didn’t matter that I was leaving for college?
What if? We plague ourselves with those two words. But it never changes the outcome or the reality. No. “What if” is the curse we will never break free of.
Present Day
The weeks that followed that incident are a blur of drunk nights, parties, and Sam cleaning up after me. I was lost, wandering through the world like a nomad. I belonged to nowhere and no one until Tate Herrington. I was in my second year of medical school, and he was my humanities professor. Tall, dark, and handsome with a whole lot of charm. He paid attention to me in class, hanging on every word I said. There was nothing I could say that could bore him. “You know he’s like that with everyone,” my friends would tell me, but I was convinced it wasn’t the case. They were jealous. It’s all those things you say to yourself to make you feel better.
And when he made a move, I reciprocated. He could be fired, so we kept it a secret.
I did everything I could to make him happy, including investing in all of his research projects. A young woman in love is dangerous.I absorbed all his pathetic stories about wanting to change the world. I should have known better when he wouldn’t stay over or when he only saw me occasionally over the weekends. I told myself it was because he was working on his research so much.
I used to be the kind of girl that laughed at people who said love was blind. I always thought I was the kind of person who could see through any farce. It turns out I wasn’t. He bled me financially dry, and then I ran into him and his wife while I was out with friends one night. I let myself be fooled by a married man—my teacher. Maybe I should have reported him, but I knew I let him take advantage of me.
A few months after, I dropped out of medical school, sinking back into the dark hole of depression, trying and failing to claw myself out. The binge-drinking continued, and I moved onto heavier stuff. I didn’t tell Sam. I felt ashamed. But she found out, convinced me to study again. I enrolled in nursing college because it felt right at the time.
Sam never asked, never judged, just silently stepped in, and kept me afloat. I made a mess of my life, made some shit choices, and Sam was my saving grace.
I wipe a tear from my cheek, looking around the colorful living room. Her paintings hang on the wall, pictures of my parents and me on the mantel above the fireplace. I haven’t changed anything. “God, I miss you, Sam.” She left this house to me in her will. So I moved here to feel closer to her, and I wound up being a mess instead. She wouldn’t be proud. She’d be disappointed.
When she died, I lost my will to live. She was the only connection I had to my mother, the closest thing to home.
I should not have had that bottle of wine last night. My nose is congested, and I have a headache from hell.
My phone rings and I throw myself on the couch face down. I tilt my head to the side and look at the caller ID. “What?” I answer.
“You, me, dancing, next Friday,” Tam tells me. I turn my face into the couch and groan.
“You’re face down on the couch again, aren’t you?” Odd as it is, she always seems to know these things.
“Wallowing in self-pity.” I turn onto my back and look at the ceiling.
“That much wine, huh?”
“Let’s just say the bottle didn’t like me very much.”
“So does that mean you’re in? You could get out of the house, have some fun for a change.”
“Do I have a choice in this?”
“Not really.”
The doorbell rings, and I sigh, dragging myself off the sofa. I barely slept last night, tossing and turning, lost in the past. Last night, my car trouble just dredged up some of those old hurts and things I would much rather leave behind.
“Miss Ray, I’m Nathan, here to drop off your car.”
I frown. “I haven’t even called a mechanic…how did you even?”
“Uhm . . .” He looks down at his paperwork. “Says here someone called the job in. The guy gave us your keys, said he’s a friend of yours.” He grins. I look over his shoulder, and sure enough, my car is parked on the curb.
“If you could sign here, and here.” He points at the sheet of paper.
“Thanks,” I mutter, annoyed.Aidan. I must have left my keys in his car. He’s the only one who knew about my car, and I don’t understand why he would do this, especially after the way he behaved last night.
“You have a good day, ma’am,” Nathan tells me and whistles as he walks toward the tow truck.
