Page 146 of Tempting Fate

That’s not the point, though.

My fingers pulse with the desire to take hold of the handle. After slanting a glance at Nadia, I give in to my craving and pick it up. The pink grip feels like heaven in my hand. I turn my back to my best friend—the liar—and hunch my shoulders.

Thigh or stomach?

The question stumps me for a second before the choice becomes clear.

I turn my leg out and run the safety razor sideways across the soft flesh at the uppermost point of my thigh. The cut is shallow. It barely wells with blood. Even so, the sting that erupts when I allow water to hit the laceration is enough to make me let out a low hiss from between my teeth.

“You okay there?” Nadia asks.

Shooting her a small smile over my shoulder, I say, “Moved too fast. Can you grab me some paracetamol?”

“Are you sure you’re all right with me leaving?”

“It’s only for a few seconds.”

Nadia hesitates, then dips her head. “I’ll be right back.”

The moment she’s gone, I press the razor to my stomach, right next to a surgery scar and drag it over my skin. This time, on softer flesh, it slices deeper. I luxuriate in the burn as the water runs over the wound. Head back, eyes shut, I breathe deep and imagine all the venom left by Zeke is mingling with Alex’s poison as it drains from my body. When the pain passes, I use my fingernails to gouge the cut so it’ll bleed faster. My body trembles as my adrenaline spikes and the tight control that was once my favourite companion whisks all the bad feelings away.

“Do you want me to help with your hair?” When I jerk at the sound of Nadia’s voice, the razor drops out of my hand. It clangs as it bounces on the tiles. I glance down at it, then at my best friend. She screws up her face like she’s in pain, and her voice wobbles when she says, “Oh, Anna. Not again.”

“This is the first time since…” I trail off, unable to say his name.

Nadia opens the shower cubicle and snatches the razor from the floor. She tosses it in the bin then steps under the spray with all her clothes on. I collapse against her when she wraps her arms around my waist. Her shoulders shake. Mine match hers.

“You heard us, didn’t you?”

With my face buried in her neck, I nod.

“He’s not worth hurting yourself for... no man is.”

I sniff. “I told him I’d die without him, and he still left me.”

“And that’s his fuck-up. Not yours. If he can’t stay through the worst times, you’re better off without him. You’ve got me… and everyone else.” Nadia’s fingers are gentle as she nudges me out of her arms and lifts my chin to make me look at her. In her forest-green eyes, I find unconditional love. “I’m an addict, Anna. Have been since I was fourteen. Bear used to beat the shit out of me just because the day ended with y… yet I stayed with him. I’m still in love with Sander—the same man I once plied with drugs, so he’d look twice at me. I’m as fucked up as one woman can be… but I can promise you one thing. I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave.’ Determination fills her expression. “Fuck Venom. He’s already been replaced. By me.”

“I love you.”

Her expression crumbles, and a trail of tears roll out of her eyes. “And I love you. We’re ride or die. I know I let you down when we were teens… that won’t happen again. I promise. We’re tough bitches. We stick together.” Nadia clicks her tongue and tilts her head toward the ceiling. “Fuck men!”

I mimic her action, screaming as loud as I can with a still-tender throat, “Fuck men!”

“Now turn around,” she orders. Even with her clothes plastered to her body and her makeup streaming down her face, Nadia is unflappable. “This greasy hair needs some love.”

In the companionable silence that dawns after my little breakdown, I try to find the words to properly convey how grateful I am that she caught me before I could hurt myself too badly. The sentiment sits wedged in my chest. I can’t make myself say it. There’s a block. Something caught between my intentions and my ability to act on them.

“Stop it,” Nadia cautions. She wrings the last of the water out of my hair then squirts body wash onto my loofah. “I can hear you overthinking things.”

“I’m just thankful it was you and not?—”

“Any person here would’ve done exactly the same as me. No one is going to judge you for trying to cope. All we want is for you to find a healthy way through…”

When Nadia trails off, I finish her sentence, “Like group therapy.”

“Yep.” She nods with grim promise. “I’ll even make you an appointment. Drive you there. Sit in on it if you need me to.”

“Deal.”

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