Page 139 of Wicked Dreams

“You’re high.”

I should’ve anticipated it.

This isn’t how I learned to play chess—I’m not normally reckless.

She takes a seat on one of the two beds, now only in her leggings and long-sleeved shirt. She twists the bottle in her hand.

Slowly, I mirror her movements. After sitting for a few seconds, I cross to the fridge and help myself to a beer. May as well. I’ll need the drink while trying to reason with Margo’s mother.

“Why are you back?” I ask, twisting the cap off. I hand it to her and pull the one from her hand, doing the same thing.

She lifts the bottle to her lips and doesn’t lower it until half the beer is gone.

“I asked you that,” she says.

I shrug. “I came to ask you why you’re here. Are you going to answer?”

She’s irritating. Infuriating. The woman who used to be my family’s chef, and Margo’s kind and warm mother, has disintegrated intothis.

There’s a reason the kids at school call her a coke whore. It’s not just because she’s addicted to drugs—it’s because she’ll do anything, sell anything, to get them.

“You look so much like your father,” she says on a sigh. “I miss him.”

My father. I grit my teeth. I can’t do anything rash, not even when she goads me.

“What about your own husband? He’s rotting away?—”

“Please don’t,” she cries.

She folds over and rocks back and forth, winding her scarf around her hands. She makes keening noises, like this is the worst thing she’s ever thought about.

I’ve had worse.

Finally, she sets the scarf down and straightens. Her cheeks are wet, but she doesn’t dash away the tears. She grabs her beer and switches beds, sitting right next to me.

I hold perfectly still as she stares into my face.

There’s kindness buried in my bones.

But… not for her.

She finally wipes the tears on her cheek with the back of her hand, running her arm under her nose. It’s hard to be around her and not feel anger.

“I just want things to go back to normal.” She latches on to my arm and lets out a sob. “Why did you come here?”

“You need to leave Rose Hill. Tonight.”

“My money is gone. I have nowhere to go?—”

“I don’t fucking care, Amber.”

She flinches.

“You promised you wouldn’t come back,” I remind her. “That you wouldn’t…”

“Interfere,” she mumbles. “But?—”

I shove her off me. She tumbles to the floor, landing in a curled position.

---