Page 73 of Reformation

“Why do you have these?

“Because, Josephine, you think these people are your family now? You think they love you? They don’t. No. I’m your family. And you’re going to help me.”

As much as I hate it, her words sting and I feel the tears begin to threaten. No. I’m not going to cry in front of this woman. I take a deep breath and force them back. “I will ask again. What. Do. You. Want?”

“Money. And pills. I’m sure your doctor can help out with that. Work on it. Or else. Goodbye, Josephine.”

She throws the second cigarette on the ground and gives it a stomp before walking away. I just stand there, still shocked from her appearance, and watch her disappear down the road. She gets into the passenger side of a car, though it’s too far for me to get the license plate. Or to see who is driving.

“Hey, Angel. I’ve been looking for you.”

I give myself a quick shake as Garrett approaches. “Hey there. All finished?”

“Yeah. We’re getting ready to pack up. You OK? And why do I smell smoke?”

I know I should tell him. I need to tell him. She just threatened not only me, but everyone I care about, including Garrett and his family.

I need a minute. I need to regroup.

“I caught someone smoking back here and asked them to put it out. No worries.”

But there is a worry. A big worry.

Because I have a feeling there is a lot more that’s coming as to why Naomi Blackstone has popped back up in my life… and it’s more than just a few bucks and some pills.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Garrett

“I was thinking we could just get takeout tonight. Maybe Chinese?”

“Sure.”

I look over to Paige who is wiping down her kitchen counter for the twentieth time since we got back from the free physical day. I’m pretty sure she has no idea what I said.

“Is Chinese OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

I stand up from where I unceremoniously plopped down on the couch a half hour ago, dead tired from the day. “Maybe after Chinese you can rub my feet in nothing except your bra and panties and tell me that I’m the king of your pussy.”

“That’s fine.”

OK, now I know she’s not listening. My girl hates, among anything else in this world, feet. I found this out once when I tried to wiggle my toes in front of her face as a joke to get her to rub them. I was sure she was going to break up with me that night.

I snap my finger in front of her face, hoping to snap her out of her daze.

“What? Yeah. Everything sounds good,” she says in a rush.

“No, Angel. Everything is not good. You just agreed to give me a foot massage tonight.”

Her face nearly turns green at the thought. “I did?”

I hold out my hand for her to follow me back to her living room, where I sit down and immediately bring her to my lap. Since we left the clinic she’s been distant. Usually, after a day like today, she’d be bursting at the seams with excitement for how well the day went. She’d be planning and wondering how many other services I could offer that could give back the way we were able to today.

Instead? She didn’t say a word during our ten-minute drive to her house.

“What’s the matter? And don’t tell me that nothing is wrong. Because I know that’s a lie. Let me help you for once.”

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