Page 59 of The Grief We Hold

“Leave me alone, Wraith.”

“We need to talk,” I say, thinking if I keep my voice low, it might take some of the energy out from between us.

“The time for talking was fifteen minutes ago.” And with that, she hurries inside, forgetting her bag, and slams the damn locks I put in for her before I have the chance to stop her.

19

RAVEN

Ilean back against the door and take a deep breath.

Then a loud knock rattles the door. “You left your bag in the truck.”

There must be some biological harmonic phenomenon that causes his voice to vibrate through me the way it does. Like my atoms are all coming undone and I need his words to put me back together.

And that can’t be healthy.

“Just leave it by the door. I’ll grab it when I hear your truck pull away.”

I hear his curses as he does as I say.

The roar of the truck tugs at something inside me. Like I’m losing something.

“Like you’re losing your sanity,” I mutter to the empty hallway before tugging the door open to retrieve my bag.

It’s muddy. It’ll need washing. I bring it in and place it on the floor, then remove my coat and hang it on the hook.

“Normal life things,” I say as I trudge up the stairs to the apartment. “That’s what I need. Last night was just a fever dream. A bad trip. Just do normal things.”

I’ll grab some groceries and prep a nice dinner.

And clean bedding. That’s one thing I can do. Wash the sheets.

I pack everything dirty into the suitcases and drag it to the launderette. Thankfully, the machines are empty, and I manage to load everything into three of them. Once they’re running, I wonder what I should do next.

A knock on the launderette window makes me jump. Quinn from the bakery waves, ties the dog she’s walking up, and then steps inside. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about you,” she says.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Book club. Are you in next weekend? I can send you the title.”

It feels indulgent to buy a book when things are so uncertain, but after the luck I’ve had with men recently, an evening with a friend seems much more appealing.

“I’d love that. You said you rotate through the group’s homes?”

Quinn laughs. “I may have oversold the size of it. It’s just me and two friends. We’re kinda picky about other people. And this week it’s at my place above the bakery.”

Her dog barks and whines outside. “That’s Bones. Always complaining like he doesn’t get food, walks, and cuddles on the regular. I should probably go rescue him from the shame of waiting on the street for me.”

“Bones is a cool name.”

“My brother named him. His full name is Sherlock Bones, Dog Detective.”

I chuckle. “That’s a strong name. Not sure he’s living up to it though.” The mutt looks like a mix of five breeds, but his face looks cutely pathetic. As if being tied to the post is an affront to his dignity.

“I thought he’d make a decent guard dog. Not that he’d attack anyone trying to break in, but that he’d at least bark. But, no, I have the only dog who can sleep through fireworks on the Fourth of July.”

“Can I bring anything to book club? Some snacks?”

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