Page 85 of Fractured

I didn’t really believe that was the case.

“Then what are you taking a few days off for?” I flipped through the sheets until I found the one I wanted. There it was, half unfinished. I needed my pen while I had this idea running through my head.

“Just because I’m the boss and I can.” Everything about him was smug, from his tone, to his smirk, and his body language.

I smiled, but kept searching for my pen. There was one in the kitchen drawer for sure.

“I was thinking. We should treat this like a twelve-step program, you know?”

I stopped mid-rise from my chair and then fell back into it. “Twelve-step program? Are you using this as a reference because you’re a bartender?”

He laughed and swiped a nervous hand over his face. “No, of course not. But I think there’s some merit in the idea. Okay, yeah, maybe I am.”

Shaking my head, I didn’t really know what to say. I guessed I could run the idea by Harper. See what she thought. That was probably better than halfcocked ideas from people who didn’t know what they were doing. I was also including myself in that category.

Actually, Harper had wanted me to meet with Drake and get closure. There might be something to this. Wait, I didn’t even know what he was talking about. I should probably find out first before my imagination ran away with me.

“I’m listening. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about your past. You mentioned Harper had wanted you to get closure with Drake. I still don’t think that’s a bad idea, when you’re ready for it,” he rushed to add. “But you said you didn’t really have that many memories of the time when Lauren was arrested and through the trial.”

I hadn’t exactly said that. “I wasn’t at the trial. I had no interest in attending. But you’re right—that part of my life is all kind of fuzzy.”

“Right, I mean, why would you be interested in showing support for someone who didn’t care about you as a parent? But…you’ve been searching for answers. What if we could find old recordings from the trial? We could watch them together. That might be a low stress way for you to get some answers.”

The thought had occurred to me, more than once. Then after a while of deliberation, I had shot the idea down. One, I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch it and rehash the details, and two, I wasn’t sure it actually would give me the answers I needed. Like why I was missing chunks of time.

And if the videos were out there, wouldn’t Drake have already watched them?

He still had questions.

“I don’t know, Kenzo. I’m not sure if that would really help, and I don’t want to rehash that one scene out over hours and hours of recordings.” Slouching in my seat, I felt a little defeated. Just a little.

“You don’t have to make any decisions now, okay? Think about it. If they’re out there, which they might not be, we could watch them now, next week, or in ten years. Whenever you’re ready. It’s only a possible way to move forward.”

“You really think we’ll all still be here, together, in ten years?” This whole relationship had been so foreign to me, but at the same time, the most comfortable thing I’d ever been a part of. To know that he thought we had a fighting chance did more for my motivation to get better than anything else at this point.

He shrugged. “I can’t predict the future, but I wouldn’t discount the possibility. We’re all committed to making this work.”

Against my better judgment, I really thought I was starting to believe them. That almost seemed dangerous, but I was determined to let go of my toxic emotions and grab a little bit of happiness for myself.

“I’ll think about it,” I said slowly.

And damnit if I didn’t think about it all day.

The old obsession tried to take control of me while I was working on my music. It really wasn’t the escape it used to be anymore, because as I worked on the notes and writing the music, Lauren would creep in with her evil stare, or Eli with his innocent eyes, and even Drake.

I felt the worst for Drake.

At least Eli’s suffering had only lasted an afternoon. Drake’s had lasted years.

No, what was I saying? Eli definitely had it worse.

“Hey there,” Ambrose said as he entered the kitchen. He’d been back in my bedroom doing what he did best—researching things. Outside of him, Kenzo was the only one that hung around for the rest of the day. Atticus had gone to teach class, but he’d gotten back about an hour ago.

“It’s after five, you think I should go ahead and start cooking?” The cabinet slammed after Ambrose pulled some spices out.

“Yeah.” I started to pack away my papers. Tomorrow, I’d put the bow to strings instead of rehearsing in my head. “His shift is over at six, so he’ll be here shortly after. He didn’t mention anything about taking a detour.”

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