Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry about that one. That’s your mother’s.”
“It’s dated from last month,” I said. “If it’s Mom’s, why are you getting refills? And I don’t recognize the pharmacy name, either.”
He sighed, then shook his head. “It’s embarrassing, Tinker Bell.”
“Dad, I’m your daughter—I love you. You never have to be embarrassed in front of me, because we’re in this together, okay? But I really need to know what’s going on here. It could be important.”
He sighed heavily and sat down.
“It’s hard to admit,” he said. “But your mother . . . well, she was having a rough time that last year. And then when the baby died . . .”
The knife twisted inside just like it always did. Would it ever stop hurting? But I guess in a weird way that would be almost worse—I never wanted to forget Tricia. The pain reminded me that she’d been real. She’d been loved.
“Your mom got depressed, sweetie,” he said. “Real depressed. Enough that she needed some medicine, and you know how this town is. She didn’t want anyone to know. So she started looking online and found this pharmacy . . . they put her in touch with a doctor somewhere, and he did an exam over the phone. We paid cash for everything, of course, didn’t want it going through the insurance.”
I frowned. “Okay, that explains the medicine, but why was it filled last month?”
Dad looked away, then swallowed.
“I got real depressed myself after we lost your mom,” he said. “So I started taking them. They worked pretty good, so I kept ordering more. Sounds stupid now that I say it out loud, but . . . I’m a man. We aren’t supposed to be weak like this.”
Of course he’d feel that way.
Reaching over, I gave his hand a squeeze.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I said, hoping he believed me. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and being depressed doesn’t change that. But I think we should talk to the doctor about it, get you a legitimate scrip. We can still fill it online so nobody sees it, okay?”
Dad gave me a sad smile, shaking his head. “I’m an old fool. Too proud, I guess.”
“Well, Mom liked you,” I pointed out. “And she had damned high standards. That’s got to count for something. We’re almost done here. I texted Randi. She’s supposed to get here in about ten minutes. I’ll just get this scanned and sent to them, and we’ll call it good.”
• • •
Naturally, the papers got stuck in the scanner.
Piece of shit.
I glared at it, wondering if I could make it work by sheer force of will. Fishing out the jammed paper, I set it up again, hoping it would work this time. I glanced at my phone nervously. At this rate I’d never get everything ready for my deliveries tomorrow. Crap.
And where the hell was Randi, anyway?
The papers started sliding through, so I decided to grab another coffee on general principle. I’d just poured the last of the tepid liquid into my mug and thrust it into the microwave when I heard a knocking on the back door. Wiping my hands off on a kitchen towel, I walked through the pantry-slash-mudroom to the back door, opening it to find Sadie standing outside.
“Hi, Sadie,” I said hesitantly, trying not to stare at the livid bruises on her face. Were those fingermarks around her neck? I needed to report this, whether she wanted me to or not. It was so much worse than I’d realized the other night—it’d been dark, or maybe they’d gotten worse with time. Bruises did that sometimes. I’d had no idea.
No wonder I hadn’t seen her around. She’d been hiding this.
“Hey,” she said, eyes darting nervously as she licked chapped lips. “Um, I wanted to tell you thanks. You know, for the other night. I just . . . well, I wanted you to know that I’m not going back. I’m done with that.”
“I’m really glad to hear it,” I replied slowly. Invite her in, dumbass. “Would you like some coffee? I was just about to put on a fresh pot.”
“No, that’s okay. But there’s one other thing I need to tell you,” she said, twisting a scraggly strand of hair.
“Yes?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t spook. The girl looked skittish as hell.
“Talia Jackson. She told us that she’s got something planned. Something big. Something to make all of you pay. You know, for Marsh?”
I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach.
“She tried to attack me last night at Jack’s,” I said. “Do you think that’s what she meant?”
Sadie shook her head. “No, I think she was talking about something bigger. I don’t know what—she wouldn’t tell me. I don’t want to be around her anymore. I only went to see her because I’d left some of my stuff at her trailer by accident. She didn’t even ask how I was feeling, you know, after . . . this.”