Page 33 of No Turning Back
The three longest relationships I’ve had with men are my dad, Markus, and Aiden and all three cheated. At least Aiden owned it. The other two just lied.
The drive to the storage unit I rented isn’t long.
“You know the offer still stands,” Aiden says. “You can put this stuff in our garage and just stay in the guest room.”
“As sweet as you and Kate have been,” I say, “I need this. Crashing at yours is nice, even fun, but I feel like I’m in limbo. I want my own place again.”
He scrunches his eyebrows. “I thought the lawyer advised against buying something right now.”
I nod. “He did. But I figure I’ll get a roommate or something. Maybe a shared home, like over someone’s garage.”
“Well, the guest room’s yours whenever you need it,” Aiden says as we pull into the parking lot.
It takes several trips and one fall on my part, to get all the non-essential stuff into the storage unit. The suitcase I keep with me.
Aiden drops me at his place on the way to the permit office. I’ve got way too much free time on my hands. When I told my boss what was going on, she gave me as much time off as I needed. Makes sense. You can’t really listen to other people’s problems when you’re drowning in your own. And since I’m new to the practice, I don’t have regular clients yet anyway.
I did make sure to file a written request to have my credentials changed from Dr. Ortega to Dr. Barnes. Turns out I don’t need to be divorced for that.
Ladies, this is why you don’t take his name because when he eventually cheats, you’ll lose your marriage, your home, and your name. Never again.
Anyway, bored out of my mind and digging myself deeper into the depression hole, I’m scrolling through apartment listings when my phone buzzes.
I stare at the caller ID for a second before answering. “Hey.”
“You busy?”
I glance at the empty house around me. “Not really. Why?”
“I’m on a stakeout, about twenty minutes from your place. Nothing serious, just routine. You want to swing by? I’ve got news.”
I pause, then exhale. “Yeah, sure. Send me the pin.”
Following the GPS, I end up in a quiet neighbourhood park. The sun’s dipping low, throwing long shadows across the curb.
I scan the area until I spot a hand waving from a faded minivan parked under a tree.
I cross the street, open the passenger door, and find Sam in the driver’s seat, sipping from a gas station coffee cup.
“Hi?” I huff as I climb in.
He smiles, the kind that shows more in his eyes than his mouth, which is buried under a full, unruly beard.
“Jesus,” I say, squinting. “And that’s not an exclamation. What’s with the face rug?”
He shrugs. “Clippers broke a while back. Haven’t gotten around to fixing them.”
“Just buy a trimmer.”
He grunts like that’s too much effort.
I glance around, pretending to take in the scene. “You know, I’m really glad I know a lawyer now. I’ll need one when the cops arrest me for lurking near a park with Dumbledore.”
Sam smirks, rubbing his beard like he’s deciding whether Dumbledore was secretly the villain. “Don’t worry, I’ll just tell them you’re my hostage.”
“Not helping,” I laugh. “What are we doing here?”
He nods toward the playground. “See the redhead in the green shirt?”
