put the cell to my ear.
“Hi, Matt. It’s Joe...Cara’s brother.”
The air whooshed from my lungs and every muscle in my body went rigid.
“I know it’s been a long time. Took me awhile to hunt down your info. Look, I have some things I need to discuss with you. It would mean a lot if you could call back.”
He rattled off a couple numbers where I could reach him and that was it. With shaking hands, I set the phone aside and sat up, staring unblinking at the wall.
In the short six days I’d known Cara, I’d had exactly one conversation with Joe. It had been little more than a couple sentences, and I suspected he hadn’t cared for me too much. Last time I’d seen him had been her funeral, where I’d stood at the far back of the crowd and left right after the service. I was certain he hadn’t seen me.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I wondered what in the hell he wanted. The past two years had been a litany of actions trying to atone for and then forget what had happened. I was finally starting to get there.
And with one phone call, all the regret and shame and what-ifs slammed into me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt
July—Two Years Ago
I hadn’t planned on seeing Cara again. Despite having fun with her the past couple nights, she threw me and I didn’t know what to do with her. The sex had been fantastic, if not a little detached, and she had a way with witty conversation that often bordered on frustrating. But we had nothing in common and we lived hours apart. What had started as a one-time vacation thing had morphed into going on four nights. She hadn’t been to my place. I hadn’t gone to hers. We’d met at her club, Tedium, and from there had either gone upstairs to her office or had meandered to the pier. We hadn’t even exchanged numbers.
I sat in my car in the parking lot, staring at the club entrance, debating whether to go inside. It wasn’t just our differences that had doubt niggling inside my head. If that were the case, I could handle what she’d been so willing to give—a good time. I wasn’t made for or raised to approach fun only. I preferred a relationship, but going off the grid once in awhile never killed anyone.
No, my hesitation stemmed from the fact Cara had problems. The kind she injected and the kind she snorted. I’d never actually witnessed her doing drugs, but last night I’d spotted the white dust under her nose when she’d exited the bathroom before she’d wiped it away. Her tat sleeves would hide track marks, but I’d connected the dots in her office after finding syringes in the garbage. Diabetic she was not, thus I put two and two together.
My experience with drugs involved a couple friends from high school smoking up after a track meet and Jenny’s mother’s overdose. I hadn’t met Jenny until years after her mom died, and I’d not indulged in pot when others had in my presence. In honesty, I abhorred drugs. Wanted nothing to do with the scene.
But, as I stared at the club, part of me wanted to...I don’t know. Help Cara? Fix her? Give support to seek treatment? I barely knew the girl, but I couldn’t walk away either. I was in over my head and smart enough to recognize that, yet here I sat.
With a heavy sigh, I exited the car and walked into the club. The blonde bartender from the past few nights was absent, and in her place was a guy who looked like Cara. Same eyes, same dark hair, same suspicious glare. He was much taller than her very short stature and didn’t seem to have the too-thin affliction Cara did.
As I saddled a stool, he walked over, wiping a martini glass with a white towel. “You lost?”
Yeah, definitely some relation to Cara. I was about to open my mouth to ask for her when I spotted her coming around the corner.
The neon blue lights from overhead washed out her already pallid tone. She swiveled her hips as she walked to the irritating techno beat blasting through the speakers. She stopped to pat a few asses of those grinding on
“Hi, Matt. It’s Joe...Cara’s brother.”
The air whooshed from my lungs and every muscle in my body went rigid.
“I know it’s been a long time. Took me awhile to hunt down your info. Look, I have some things I need to discuss with you. It would mean a lot if you could call back.”
He rattled off a couple numbers where I could reach him and that was it. With shaking hands, I set the phone aside and sat up, staring unblinking at the wall.
In the short six days I’d known Cara, I’d had exactly one conversation with Joe. It had been little more than a couple sentences, and I suspected he hadn’t cared for me too much. Last time I’d seen him had been her funeral, where I’d stood at the far back of the crowd and left right after the service. I was certain he hadn’t seen me.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I wondered what in the hell he wanted. The past two years had been a litany of actions trying to atone for and then forget what had happened. I was finally starting to get there.
And with one phone call, all the regret and shame and what-ifs slammed into me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt
July—Two Years Ago
I hadn’t planned on seeing Cara again. Despite having fun with her the past couple nights, she threw me and I didn’t know what to do with her. The sex had been fantastic, if not a little detached, and she had a way with witty conversation that often bordered on frustrating. But we had nothing in common and we lived hours apart. What had started as a one-time vacation thing had morphed into going on four nights. She hadn’t been to my place. I hadn’t gone to hers. We’d met at her club, Tedium, and from there had either gone upstairs to her office or had meandered to the pier. We hadn’t even exchanged numbers.
I sat in my car in the parking lot, staring at the club entrance, debating whether to go inside. It wasn’t just our differences that had doubt niggling inside my head. If that were the case, I could handle what she’d been so willing to give—a good time. I wasn’t made for or raised to approach fun only. I preferred a relationship, but going off the grid once in awhile never killed anyone.
No, my hesitation stemmed from the fact Cara had problems. The kind she injected and the kind she snorted. I’d never actually witnessed her doing drugs, but last night I’d spotted the white dust under her nose when she’d exited the bathroom before she’d wiped it away. Her tat sleeves would hide track marks, but I’d connected the dots in her office after finding syringes in the garbage. Diabetic she was not, thus I put two and two together.
My experience with drugs involved a couple friends from high school smoking up after a track meet and Jenny’s mother’s overdose. I hadn’t met Jenny until years after her mom died, and I’d not indulged in pot when others had in my presence. In honesty, I abhorred drugs. Wanted nothing to do with the scene.
But, as I stared at the club, part of me wanted to...I don’t know. Help Cara? Fix her? Give support to seek treatment? I barely knew the girl, but I couldn’t walk away either. I was in over my head and smart enough to recognize that, yet here I sat.
With a heavy sigh, I exited the car and walked into the club. The blonde bartender from the past few nights was absent, and in her place was a guy who looked like Cara. Same eyes, same dark hair, same suspicious glare. He was much taller than her very short stature and didn’t seem to have the too-thin affliction Cara did.
As I saddled a stool, he walked over, wiping a martini glass with a white towel. “You lost?”
Yeah, definitely some relation to Cara. I was about to open my mouth to ask for her when I spotted her coming around the corner.
The neon blue lights from overhead washed out her already pallid tone. She swiveled her hips as she walked to the irritating techno beat blasting through the speakers. She stopped to pat a few asses of those grinding on
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