Page 44 of The One
One of the many questions I had, adding to an endless list.
Once I watched her disappear, I took a rideshare home, and I’d been in this spot ever since.
It was one thing to go all those years without seeing her in person. Without hearing her voice. Without experiencing her touch.
But tonight, all three had happened.
Seeing the taillights turn to small specks of red had left me grieving in a way that consumed every ounce of me. I was empty. Lost. Desperate for something I hadn’t had in a long time.
I couldn’t numb the feeling.
I couldn’t fill the holes that had been left behind.
I couldn’t get out of my fucking head.
Every time I swallowed, every time I put my lips around the end of the damn wet paper, every time I closed my eyes—she was there.
She was looking at me.
Talking to me.
Touching me.
I couldn’t stop my hands from clutching, squeezing what was in them, wishing it were her face.
This bed felt like a fucking prison, and mentally, I’d been in one for too long. I needed out. I needed to piece together why Lainey had been there tonight.
I wouldn’t get that information by wasting away in this hellhole.
Since I wasn’t sober enough to drive, I’d called my assistant a little bit ago, woken her out of a dead sleep, and told her to come pick me up. I could have asked Ridge or Rowan to do the same. I just wasn’t ready to go there with them. I didn’t want to tackle the questions that would pour from their mouths. In fact, I didn’t really feel like talking at all.
Trista was the safest option. She didn’t know my past—at least I didn’t think she did—and she would do what she was told.
Trista
I’m outside.
My phone glowed as I read her message, and I kicked off the blanket, stubbed out the joint in an ashtray, and stumbled toward the door. I heard it close behind me before I climbed into her passenger seat.
“You reek,” she said softly.
“Of fucking misery, I know.” I took a drink from the glass I’d brought with me.
“What if I get pulled over?” She nodded toward the mostly full cup.
“It’ll be gone before you even get out of the Hollywood Hills.”
“And what if there’s a cop waiting outside your driveway?”
The only cops in this area were the ones hired by my celebrity neighbors, and they weren’t there to pull someone over for a goddamn open container.
“I’ll pay the ticket,” I barked. “Drive.”
“Do you want to tell me where I’m going?”
I held out my hand. “Unlock your phone and give it to me.”
When she set her cell on my palm, I opened the Maps app and typed in the address, hitting Go. As the spoken directions started to play through her speakers, she pulled out of my driveway and followed the next set of instructions.
