Love on the Lake (Lakeside 2)

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she whispers in my ear.

I release her and step back. I take her in, how exhausted she looks, how her eyes are slow to track. She looks frail. “Yeah, of course. Is this Stitch related or us related?”

“Us related.” She twists her fingers and glances over her shoulder. “I know you’re at work. I probably should’ve waited until you were off today, but I missed you. I know I made a mess of things. I’ve had some time to think, and I see that now. There are a few important things I need to tell you.”

I tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear, wanting to believe what she’s telling me but worried about her motives. “I missed you too. And you didn’t make a mess of things, Teagan. No one’s perfect, and every relationship has bumps. We can get through this. I’ll be done in an hour. Unless it can’t wait.”

“I guess it can wait. I know I interrupted in the middle of your workday.” She keeps chewing on the inside of her lip, to the point I’m starting to worry that she’s going to break the skin.

“I just . . . maybe I could wait for you at your place? I could borrow your key?”

My house key is in my truck, where I always keep it during the workday.

“I could meet you at your place if that’s easier. Then you don’t have to wait around.”

Her jaw works. There’s a small clear Band-Aid on her chin, and the skin around it is purplish and bruised. She reaches out and links her finger with mine. “I thought maybe I could pick up some of the stuff you took from my medicine cabinet when you were upset with me.”

The small seed of hope that she’s here because she wants to work things out withers and dies. I know that she cares about me, but I also know she’s struggling and that her need to find a way to cope is trumping those feelings. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. I cross my arms. “So this actually isn’t about us at all.”

Her face crumples with confusion. “What do you mean? Yes it is. You were mad at me for not taking care of myself, and now I am. I’m going to see my doctor on Monday. I just need some extra help to get me through the weekend. I have to drive to Chicago, and I’m not getting enough sleep. I always sleep better next to you.” Her hand comes to rest on my chest, and she smiles up at me. “When I can feel your heartbeat.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick as I place my hand over hers. I hate that I didn’t see this sooner. That I didn’t see how hard this all was for her or the path she’d wandered onto. What I’m about to say next is going to determine a lot of things. Like how deep in the hole she truly is. “You can come over, and we can talk, and if after that you still want to stay, you’re more than welcome, but I don’t have any of that stuff I took.”

Her smile drops into a frown, and her cheek tics. “What do you mean, you don’t have it? What did you do with it?”

“I got rid of it all. The prescriptions were a year out of date. They’re not even any good anymore after that. I brought them back to the pharmacy.” That way someone couldn’t dig them out of the trash and use them.

Her lip curls into a sneer, and her eyes flare with ire. “You had no right! Those were mine, and I needed them, and you threw them away?” Her voice rises, scaring a few squirrels and birds in the nearby trees.

“You need to keep your voice down, Teagan.”

“Don’t tell me to keep my voice down! You stole from me!” And now she’s full-on shouting.

I grind my teeth together, fighting to stay in control. I take her hand and pull her toward the gate.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“You are making a scene, and you’re embarrassing yourself.” I drop my voice, but it shakes with my anger and frustration. Anger that these pills have such a hold on her. That they override her logic. Frustration that she can’t see what her addiction is doing to her. How it’s breaking her down. That I’m losing her, and I can’t fix her or make her better.

I throw a glare toward the girls still sitting in the hot tub, eyes wide, phones in their hands, and call out, “Don’t even think about it.” The last thing Teagan needs is someone recording her having a public meltdown and accusing me of stealing from her. I can imagine the kind of gossip that would result.