Page 64 of Catch You

I shrug, because she’s most probably right.

“He’s hiding stuff …” I hesitate. “Dark stuff.” That piques Brooke’s interest.

“I’m guessing he’s not the only one.” She quirks an eyebrow. “He has no idea about your background or that you can help with this, does he?”

“What do you think?” Brooke knows that I don’t make a habit of telling anyone who I’m connected to.

“I think that if you suddenly help him out, you’re going to have to come clean, and I know how much you hate talking about it.”

“Maybe it’s worth it.” Her chin drops as she stares at me in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” she whispers.

“I don’t know. He’s a good person who deserves better in his life. But to be honest, we didn’t exactly leave things on great terms.” She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut in. “He’s not in a good place. He’s run away from some shit that I only know the basics of. I just want to do something.”

“What shit? How damaged are we talking here?”

“He was medically discharged from service six years ago. He’s been through things …” I trail off, because I have no idea what those things really are, and I’d hate to do him and his past a disservice by guessing. “Pasts can be painful, B. I know that better than most. I just want to help.”

“I know you’ll do what you think is right no matter what I say, so I’m just going to tell you that I trust you and leave you to make the decision on this.”

“I-I appreciate that,” I stutter. I was expecting her to get more involved, but she’s right: I need to stay out of it.

“I’m going for a soak. Hot date tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You won’t need to wait up. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

She dumps her mug in the sink before disappearing.

“When don’t you?” I call after her, but all I get in response is her laughter.

I make myself another coffee and take it up to my room.

Sitting myself in the middle of my bed, I open up the website the final notice for Corey’s apartment was from on my cell and hover my thumb over the call button.

My need to help burns through me. I can make the stress of his imminent eviction disappear with one quick call.

I hesitate, but in the end, I put my phone down and try to forget about it. Brooke is right; it’ll only lead to me having to answer questions I’m not ready for.

In the end, I finish my coffee and jump in the shower. I need to go and see my aunt.

I stop at the store on the way to pick her up a few things before pulling up to her house.

My stomach drops. All the curtains are closed.

I glance at the clock. It’s now past lunchtime. This isn’t right. Throughout all her treatment, even on her worst days, she always got up and got dressed.

I find her front door key on my keyring, and, with her bags in hand, I make my way to the house. My heart pounds in my chest at what I’m going to find on the other side of the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” I call into an equally dark house.

“Upstairs,” a weak voice replies. I drop everything in my hands and take off running.

Her bedroom door is wide open, and I quickly round the corner to find her propped up in bed.

“Hey,” I whisper, walking up to the bed and dropping myself to the edge. “You not doing so well?” It’s a stupid question and one I regret immediately.

“My seizures have been coming more often.” Everything in my chest tumbles into the pit of my stomach.

“Would you like me to call the doctor?”

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