Page 55 of The Wrong Drive

My heart jumps to my throat, thinking of Em. “Good enough to have a wife or some shit?”

Bradford laughs. “Sure. I got a few kids, too.”

I take a deep breath. “I have no idea what this entails, but deal.”

Chapter 26

Emersyn

11 months later…

“Isn’t this Christmas party amazing?” Catie’s heels click obnoxiously as she prances up to me, a glass of champagne in her hands. Her hair is tied up in a perfectly fashioned half updo, and her small frame shows no sign of how much wine she drinks on the usual. “It’s so much better to get drunk than it is to bake cookies and shit.”

I blink a couple of times, taking in my drunk best friend in her tight red dress, low cut to nearly her belly button. “I suppose so.” I turn my eyes back to the skyline of the city, and while it’s not impressive, it’s better than watching her.

“Can you believe they found all that data on Adam? I can’t believe he was hiring prostitutes. God knows what he got himself into. He probably gave you the wrong address on purpose.”

“Catie,” I say in a sharp tone, the truth still stinging a little. For a man who calledmea whore, he had been doing way more than I ever did. “I really don’t want to talk about him tonight.” My fingers brush across the wooden heart pendent resting against the black, long sleeve dress I’m wearing to this catastrophe of an elegant Christmas party.

A year. It’s been a freaking year.

“Well, I’m still trying to cope with the fact that Aaron is in prison for doing the same fucking thing, Em. It’s not like life is just a ball of fucking fun right now.” Her voice drops, her shoulders dropping. “It’s amazing what someone going missing does to their secrets. They all come out—whether we want them to or not.”

I eye her, my faded paranoia tapping on my shoulder, but then nod. “I know. I’m sorry. You should get back to the party. Dustin, the guy you like from work, is here, you know. I saw him looking for you.”

“Oh?” Her brows shoot skyward. “I didn’t think he’d have the balls to come.”

I shoot her a smile. “Well, I guess you were wrong.”

“As per usual,” she giggles. She then spins on her heels and clicks out of the sitting area, heading back where the bulk of the people are at around the bar. I continue to stand there, staring out into the night.

Fucking Christmas Eve.

My mind flashes back to that cabin in the woods, the one where I found myself, and then subsequently lost it. For a while, my mind told me debated on the truth with Adam and his hobbies, but as it turns out, it was legitimate—and Aaron was involved in the string as well.

I guess you never really know someone.

Tapping my nails on the side of my glass, I ignore the buzzing of my phone. It’s more than likely my mom. Everyone is worried about me, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. They see the way things played out with Adam, and they think I left my heart in Colorado. The truth is, I did. But it’s at that stupid fucking cabin in the woods.

Fuck you, Turner.

I blink away the moisture that still somehow finds its way to my eyes, even after all this time has passed. I guess I don’t moveon as easy as I thought I did. I’ve considered going there so many times. I’ve thought about writing another letter, but I extended my offer when I stuck that Christmas card in his mailbox.

He has a phone, and he chose to never call.I take a deep breath and take a sip of my champagne. I don’t know if I’m angry or bitter. I don’t know if the infatuation with him morphed to hatred, or if I still love him. I don’tknow.

And that’s the part I hate the most.

Catie says someday the heartbreak will fade, since she knows I fell for Turner. She doesn’t know the rest. That’s something I’ll take to my grave without regret. My phone buzzes again, and I fish it out of my purse, flipping it open. I see the notification on social media, Catie tagging me in some godforsaken selfie with the bar we’re at. We took a trip this year just for her.

“You really shouldn’t let your friend tag you in posts that give away your location,” a voice says from behind me with a deep chuckle. “It’s dangerous, though helpful if someone wants to find you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I mutter, still staring out the window. “Why don’t you go talk to her about it?”

“I’d rather talk to you.”

I feel the presence of the desperate guy, probably out to get laid, draw closer. “I’m not much for conversation. You’re better off finding someone else.” I wave him off, making it a pointnotto look. There’s something familiar in the deep voice, and I know it’s my mind playing tricks on me. It’s happened before.

“That’s funny, you never shut up when you were with me.”

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