Page 118 of Legacy of Lies
A few hours later, Sara finally got out of bed. Every joint in her body creaked. Hard to tell which her muscles hated more: movement or gravity. Neither did her any favors.
Checking her messages, she read a text from Izzy.
I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk to me again, pls call. If you don’t, I understand.
As much as Sara wanted to call her friend back, she didn’t have the emotional energy to spare right now. Of course she didn’t blame Izzy, bless her friend’s sweet heart. Izzy had nothing to do with Hank’s insanity or Wyatt’s part in the kidnapping.
I’m okay. Call you later.
Trudging into the kitchen, she made herself tea and a sandwich. Damn, even chewing made her jaw hurt.
At one point in the early evening, Sara jumped out of her skin at a knock at the front door. After the footsteps faded away, she cracked the front door and pulled a still-warm casserole dish into the house, along with a note from a coworker with wishes for Sara to get well.
Get well? Nothing would cure this entire situation. Not even tasty, cheesy casserole.
Empty sadness hollowed out Sara’s chest until she struggled to breathe.
Only one thing to do.
So she went back to sleep until her watch informed her that another night had elapsed. Wednesday. Fabulous. She was losing huge chunks of time to her misery, pain, and exhaustion.
Feeling slightly more human, she took a ridiculously long bath and changed into actual clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, at least somewhat ready to slog through the day.
With sore arms, she assembled and taped cardboard boxes and laid them around the house. Might as well pack now.
She’d be leaving at the end of the semester, just over a month away.
Couldn’t face her students. Couldn’t deal with her own role in the Taggerts’ troubles.
Couldn’t bear seeing Garrison again.
Couldn’t remain here in Copper River.
She’d implement her exit strategy early. Somehow, she would pay off the debt owed to the school district. She’d call her friend in Atlanta and try to get a foot in the door with the district there. Heck, Sara could substitute teach until a permanent position opened up.
Anything to survive.
Anything to get out of this town.
Thirty minutes into box creation, she gave up and curled up on the couch, head aching, muscles weak. Time to feel sorry for herself for a minute. She rubbed her hip, recalling Garrison’s tender touch. She imagined his warm gaze consuming her as he made love to her.
Damn it. Now the tears came, welling up from deep inside of her soul.
And they didn’t stop.
Waves of sadness swamped her, blocked out all of her senses.
A tapping sound began. It had to be coming from her throbbing head.
The sound persisted.
The front door. Damn it, she didn’t want any more well-wishers. She didn’t want any prying eyes evaluating how badly she’d been beaten up. It was none of their business.
She tried putting the throw pillow over her head, but the tapping continued.
Dear Lord, could these people not take a hint?
As she winced her way to the front door, she clenched her teeth, ready to be polite but firm. She yanked open the door.
