Page 125 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

“You can rest easy, counselor. I waited until I signed the papers before I smashed and then snorted two pills.”

“Shit, Sissy. Four months on the straight and narrow.” Remy paused. “Unless you were lying about that.”

Another maddeningly apathetic shrug. “No, I wasn’t. I’ve been clean but living with crippling pain. I mean I haven’t had a pain-free hour since I started rehab, and I’m sick and tired of it. As soon as I knew Mira was safe, I gave in.” She shrugged. “Funny, you’d think I’d feel something, but I don’t. Not disappointment, not relief…just nothing. I’m not feeling any pain, though, so I’ll take that for what it’s worth.”

“Are you okay? I mean snorting two pills after four months clean, isn’t that dangerous?”

Sissy met her gaze head-on. “Should’ve known I couldn’t get anything past you. Why do you think I didn’t want to get into your car? How would it look if you’re with me and I overdose?”

Her gut clenched and her heart raced. “Are you going to…overdose?” She snagged her phone from her purse. “Should I be calling an ambulance?” Sissy looked okay, but who was she to judge? It wasn’t every day she was knowingly sitting across from a drugged person. Usually by the time they got to her office, they’d been in jail long enough to sober up. She’d dealt with more than a few perpetrators who were in withdrawal, but she’d never knowingly been in the presence of someone who was high. She knew better. Everything they said would be suspect—and not admissible in court—so there was no point.

Had anything Sissy said since she got into Remy’s car been true?

“Where’d you get the pills?”

Sissy snickered. “I live in a sober-living house. Trust me, I had multiple sources to pick from.”

“I’m assuming there’s no chance a doctor prescribed it…:”

Another snicker. “You’re a bright one, counselor.” Then her face fell. “I understand that you need to call the RCMP.”

“And tell them what? That I’m with a woman who took OxyContin without a prescription? I can call, but it won’t go anywhere, and you know it.” She shook with frustration. “What are you playing at? Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me? And why on earth would you want me to call the cops?”

“You’re not getting this.” Sissy hissed, leaning forward, her face twisting in fury. “I want you to tell the world what a bad person I am. I want Rusty to be able to walk away without a second glance. Because he won’t, you know. I saw him today. You saw him today. He hesitated. He questioned whether he was being too harsh. You know I’m right.”

True. Hadn’t some of Remy’s discomfort stemmed from him seeming less certain? He hadn’t said anything, but she’d suspected he was having second thoughts. About all of it, she’d bet. “What now?”

“You go home and tell Rusty I’m dead. And I am, you know. It’s a matter of time. One day I’ll take too many, and that’ll be the end. Maybe I’ll decide tomorrow is a good day to die. Let’s be very clear. You tell him I’m dead. You tell Mira you’re her new mother, and you don’t look back. I know you and he married because of me, but you can make it work. I see how you look at each other. There’s more to this marriage than trying to keep me away from Mira.” Abruptly, she rose from the table. “Love her, Remy. Love her like she’s your own. Love him. Make a family. Be happy.”

Remy reached out for her, but Sissy stepped back, furiously brushing away the tears.

“The rain’s stopped. I can walk.”

“You don’t have a coat. It’s freezing out there.”

Sissy laughed but there was no humor in it. “I won’t feel it anyway. I’ll let you pay for lunch because I need to save my money to pay for pills.” The tears began streaming down her face. “I’ve fallen, Remy, and I won’t be getting back up. Accept it. Move on. Help my family move on without me.”

Sissy walked away.

Remy fought the urge to follow. The younger woman made her feelings very clear on the matter and, as Sissy well knew, the police wouldn’t come even if called. Sure, she’d broken parole, but they’d call her out after her next drug test. If she even bothered to stick around that long. Maybe she had a plan.

That was doubtful. A woman who wasn’t wearing a coat in December couldn’t really have a plan.

And that scared Remy most of all.

After a time, she quietly paid the bill and headed home. Exhaustion overwhelmed her when she pulled into the driveway. She’d sat in the booth at White Spot for over two hours, trying to figure out what had just happened. She splurged and ate cheesecake, but clarity hadn’t come. And she still hadn’t reached the toughest decision of all.

What on earth am I going to tell Rusty?

She was getting out of the car when the front door flew open. He ran down the steps and pulled her into a swift and tight embrace.

“You’re okay, thank God. I was so worried.”

“Worried?” She pulled back. “Why were you worried?” She glanced around. “Where are the girls?”

“Olivia took them to the pool.” He started pulling her toward the house. “I need to get you out of this rain. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

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