Page 16 of Sin of Love

“Fuck off,” I mutter, taking a deep drag. “I just need something.”

He snorts. “No need to explain—you’re sitting with an ex-drug addict. Trust me, that smoke looks damn good to me right now.”

I offer him the pack; he shakes his head. “Haven’t smoked in four years. Deirdre would kill me if I started again. How’s your head, anyway?”

“Hurts,” I grunt, ignoring his reference to Deirdre. I don’t tell him about the mild sweats, occasional tremor in my hands, and my racing heart. The last could be the cigarette, though.

“Do you want me to drive to the gas station and grab some ibuprofen?”

“I’d prefer a joint.”

Nate laughs. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like you have a problem.”

I don’t laugh as I take another drag.

“Imagine walking a dirt path, ten feet in length. Back and forth, back and forth, you pace and pace and pace, never veering from the path. Over time, your steps dig a hole. The path gets deeper and deeper, until the sky disappears and all you know in the world is your hole. The reality you built with your own two feet.”

Nate is silent. I take another drag. Smoking really is disgusting. The taste, the smell. But it’s the burn I crave, the burn I pursue. If it hurts, it brings a little relief.

“That, to me, is addiction. An obsession. A prison we create for our minds of limiting beliefs based on fears. A symptom of the weak, I’d always thought. Until Deirdre.”

I grind out the cigarette and reach for another.

“Deirdre is my path, and I’ll never leave it. Her. I don’t care if I ever see the sky again.”

Nate coughs delicately. “That’s disturbing as fuck. And weirdly romantic.”

“Not enough to keep her here,” I mutter.

Nate sighs and collects our trash, then stands. “I can’t pretend to understand all her reasons for leaving. Or why she wouldn’t let Dominic help—”

“What do you mean?” I interject. “How could Dominic possibly help?”

He looks up, surprised. “You do know he’s an ex-SEAL who used to own one of the biggest private defense companies in the U.S., right?”

I blink. Blink some more. Finally shake my head, which swims from too much nicotine.

Nate continues, “Dominic knows people who know people, if you know what I mean.”

I can’t help laughing at that. At the insanity of what’s happening, where we are, what we’ve seen, what Nate just said. When I’m done letting out my crazy, I wipe my tearing eyes and meet his bemused stare.

“Call Dominic right now.”

“Deirdre said—”

My expression stops him short.

He pulls out his phone.

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