Page 22 of Connected

Chapter 8

Pilar

Ifelt like I was dying— I suppose that’s what happens when you try to rid yourself of the toxins you pumped into your veins. Still, I had to push through and drag my ass to work. I couldn’t afford to lose a day's pay, not when I was leaving at the end of the week and needed to pay my bills for the month upfront.

After I left Joaquin’s apartment, I did what I always do when he hurts me— I headed for my drug dealer looking to escape the pain. But before I could hand him the money, anger consumed me. I realized I didn’t want another quick fix. I wanted to better myself. I wanted to prove to Joaquin change was possible. It was too late to right our wrongs for the child we conceived, but it wasn’t too late for me to be someone I could be proud of, someone worthy of a man’s love but not someone who relied on that love to breathe.

I shoved my money back into my purse and turned away from my dealer. Racing to my car, I got behind the wheel and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was in control. I hurt, yes. My heart was broken, but my life was not over because Joaquin didn’t want me. I believe somewhere out there, a man is waiting for me to enter a room and feel the connection associated with love— that sense of being whole.

I drove myself home and instead of crying myself to sleep, I researched rehab facilities. It took some time to find one that met my needs, but I’m confident Rolling Springs is a good fit for me, and I check in on Saturday.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure you were coming in tonight.”

At the sound of my co-worker Lena’s voice, I lift my head from the reservation book.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I wasn’t feeling well,” I explain.

Pointing to the book, I lift an eyebrow.

“It looks like it’s going to be a busy night. Is the back room available for walk-ins? I didn’t see any parties listed.”

Lena worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she diverts her eyes toward the bar area before bringing them back to me.

“Pilar, Joaquin is here.”

My eyes instantly sweep the room in search of him, but then I realize something . . . for the first time, I didn’t feel his presence.

“He’s here a while now,” Lena continues. “Him and that guy he’s always with are in the back room with some older man I’ve never seen before.” She looks back toward the bar. “He came here with her,” she adds, tipping her chin to the blonde sitting at the bar.

I stare at the woman, watching as she slides off her stool and tugs the hem of her scandalously short dress over her slim thighs. She takes a step away from the bar and nearly falls flat on her face, making it clear she doesn’t regularly wear heels— either that or she’s drunk.

Tucking her purse under her arm, she turns around and I swear my heart breaks even more. She’s stunning and the opposite of me in every way. Where my features are dark, hers are light, and where I’m curvy, she’s perfectly slim. If she’s Joaquin’s type, what does that make me?

I try to push the thought out of my head and remind myself of the goals I’ve set to accomplish since my epiphany, but those goals are too fresh. They can’t erase the years I spent loving the wrong man.

She starts down the hallway and I struggle with my will.

I didn’t feel him.

Those words ring in my head, but the devil on my shoulder is louder, reminding me of all the times I did feel him . . . of all the times I believed he was the other half of my heart.

“Cover for me?” I ask Lena.

“Pilar . . . ”

“Please,” I whisper. “I-I just need to see for myself.”

Sighing she takes the pen I didn’t realize I was holding out of my hand and looks back at the reservation book.

“Go,” she says.

Without giving her a chance to change her mind, I take off in the direction the blonde was headed. I round the hallway and stop in my tracks when I see Joaquin push her up against the wall.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he growls.

“No, I’m fucking bored,” she spats, pushing him away from her. “Rocco!” she shouts over Joaquin’s shoulder before attempting to side-step him. He spins around, arms outreached, but he doesn’t get to grab her because his eyes lock with mine.

“Pilar,” he murmurs.

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