Page 53 of Madness

I glance around the diner. It's quieted down, and my coworker nods that she can cover for me. I slide onto the stool next to Nikki.

"So," I begin, not sure where to start. "You mentioned Miles and... and this married woman."

Nikki nods, leaning in conspiratorially. "Yeah, it was the talk of the scene for a while. Miles always had a wandering eye, you know?"

The casual way she says it makes my stomach churn. "Did he... I mean, when you were together..."

"Oh honey," Nikki laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Miles cheated on everyone. It's just what he did. Hell, weren't you the other woman at one point?"

I feel my face flush. It's true. Miles and I had gotten together while he was still technically with someone else. I'd convinced myself it was different with us.

"But that was years ago," I protest weakly. "He was sober when we got serious. He wouldn't have..."

Nikki's expression softens slightly. "Look, Lauren, I'm not trying to hurt you. But Miles... he had demons. Being sober didn't change that. I was with him, too, when he got sober at one point. It never lasted. From what I heard, things started going south again when you got pregnant."

The words hit me hard. She’s right. He did change then. I remember the mood swings, the late nights, the excuses. I'd chalked it up to nerves about becoming a father. The fighting had gotten so bad I had to move in with Shannon. Had I been that blind?

"Do you know anything about the woman he was with? The night he... the night it happened?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nikki shrugs. "Not much. Just that she was married to some hotshot musician. Older than Miles. I think they met at a party or something."

Each word feels like another piece of a puzzle I never wanted to solve. Dakota's wife, Chloe. It had to be her.

"Lauren?" Nikki's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I manage a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just... processing, I guess. Thanks for telling me all this."

As Nikki gathers her things to leave, she pauses. "For what it's worth, I think Miles really did love you. In his own fucked up way. He just... couldn't love himself, you know?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As the bell chimes with Nikki's departure, I'm left sitting at the counter, my world completely tilted on its axis. Or is it just me that’s about to fall off the planet?

My phone feels heavy in my pocket. Still no call from Dakota. But now, I'm not sure I want to hear what he might say. Because if Nikki's right, if Miles and Chloe really were together that night...

What does that mean for Dakota?

The lights of the police station buzz overhead as I shift from foot to foot, my backpack heavy with nursing textbooks. I'm going to be late for class, but I can't walk away. Not now.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the officer at the desk repeats, his voice tinged with impatience. "As I've explained, we can't release that information to you."

I lean forward, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please, I'm not just some random person. I was his girlfriend. I'm the mother of his child."

The officer's expression softens slightly, but he shakes his head. "I understand, but legally, you're not next of kin. Without a court order or permission from the immediate family, I can't give you access to that report."

"But it's been three years," I protest weakly. "Surely?—"

"I'm sorry," he cuts me off, not unkindly. "Those are the rules. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Defeated, I shake my head and turn away. As I push through the heavy glass doors, the morning sun feels too bright, too cheerful for the turmoil inside me.

I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over Dakota's name. Still no call back. Part of me wants to leave another message, to blurt out everything Nikki told me, to demand answers. But what if I'm wrong? What if it's all just a horrible coincidence?

No, I need to be sure before I say anything. But how?

As I walk to my car, my mind races. Miles' family? They barely spoke to him in those last few years, and they certainly don't talk to me now. Old bandmates? Maybe, but most of them fell out of touch after Miles died.

I slide into the driver's seat, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. The digital clock on the dashboard blinks at me, a reminder that I'm already ten minutes late for class.

With a sigh, I start the engine. For now, nursing school has to take priority. I've worked too hard to get here to throw it away on ghosts from the past.

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