Page 15 of The Last One You Loved
“I’m so sorry, McK.”
There was nothing else to say. Not a damn thing.
? ? ?
Two days later, an article appeared in the local paper, spewing Dr. Gregory’s side of the story along with a host of fake data on the number of false CPS reports made each year. Instead of going underground with shame at abusing his son, Roy Gregory was flaunting his standing in the community and telling everyone he was determined to be the mouthpiece for parents who couldn’t speak for themselves.
The next day, our apartment door was tagged with hateful words that couldn’t simply be washed away. Our landlord had needed to paint it a stark black to make it disappear. My social media accounts were flooded with both positive and negative comments. I disabled them all because even the positive ones still wanted me to share my side of the story. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. If I talked about the CPS report, I could face charges. Even telling Sally had been a risk.
For nearly a week, Sally went to work, facing the rumors on her own because everyone knew we were friends. Every day, I fought my old fight-or-flight instincts that were slamming back into existence as strong as if Mama was screaming a slew of nasty names at me. Except, now I had nowhere to hide. There’d only been one place…one person…I’d ever run to, and I couldn’t go there.
I’d burned that bridge.
I’d burned it and thrown myself into the gorge off the other side.
For a man and a future that had all been a mirage wavering in the heat of the sun.
On Wednesday, after a particularly nasty article I was tormenting myself by reading, my brain finally remembered the key I had tucked in a dresser drawer.
Growing up, my dad had been nothing more than a thirty-second advertisement in my life, and I’d thought I’d never see him again after I’d moved out of the duplex. But then Trap had shown up at the ranch my last day in Willow Creek and given me the key as an unspoken apology for a life he couldn’t change.
I’d forgotten about it for a good reason—because going back wasn’t a possibility.
I reminded myself that nothing had changed in that regard.
No, I’d have to stick it out here.
But thoughts of the key returned the next day.
I was watchingBuffy the Vampire Slayerand wishing I could turn Dr. Gregory into a vampire who I could make go poof with a stake when Sally came home. She looked more exhausted and worn out than I felt, but she’d still stopped for food. The greasy bags were a splurge we rarely allowed ourselves with the strict budgets we kept while trying to pay off our college debt.
I scrambled for my backpack, took out the only cash I had left without leaving the apartment to get more, and handed it to her.
“Keep it,” she said.
“Sal,” I protested.
“Don’t argue with me. I’ve had a shit day,” she said, face serious, and so I didn’t.
We ate in a depressed silence, watching Buffy and Spike flirt on screen.
My phone rang, and I silenced it when I saw it was just another unknown number. I’d been hounded with requests for interviews. This time, a text popped up a moment later from the same number.
1-530-555-8205: They thought they could make me leave my house. MY HOUSE. The one I fucking paid for with MY MONEY. If you don’t fix this, if you don’t admit your mistakes, I’ll come for you. Every hour I spend dealing with this will be marked on your skin, and by the time I’m done with you, they won’t even find a molecule of your DNA.
Chills went up my spine, fear cutting through me even more than the time I’d accidentally shattered a glass in the kitchen when I was eleven. Every time I’d picked up a shard, Mama had pushed it into my hand. My fingers had been littered with cuts and blood by the time she was done making her point.
This…this was almost worse.
There was a chance he was all talk, bluster from a man who prided himself on power and control, lashing out because he’d lost some. But what if it wasn’t? What if the evil hiding behind the calm face of a doctor the community trusted meant he wasn’t afraid to come after me? I’d known there was a good chance my career was over, but I hadn’t felt like my life had been threatened. God, would he hurt Sally, too?
I swallowed hard, putting down my burger as the little appetite I’d had completely dried up.
“What is it?” Sally asked, reading my expression and glancing down at the phone.
I deleted the text and shook my head. “Just another interview request.”
For a moment, she looked like she’d challenge me but then just put down her burger also looking suddenly nervous.
