Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I’m seeing this girl…” I paused. I wasn’t sure “seeing” was right. We had only been on one real date and had sex a couple of times, but I had fallen for her. If it was in the cards, I wanted to be with her for a long, long time.
“Congratulations.” Mike nodded. “Who? How did you meet?”
“She’s, um…” I decided to tell him a partial truth. “She’s a nurse from the treatment center.”
Instead of discouraging me, Mike’s face lit up. “You dog!” He hit me on the shoulder, strong enough to sting. “Wait, is this above board?”
“Not really.” I winced. “I mean, I didn’t touch her in the treatment center—she coulda lost her job. But I’m sure someone would have something to say if they knew she was here.”
“I’ll bet.” Mike was all in, as eager as a housewife for the news.
“She followed me here after I was released. She found me two days ago.” I conveniently kept out the part about her being Matthews’ daughter.
Mike shook his head in appreciation. When I stalled, he nudged me with a salacious “And?”
“And we hooked up a few times, in her hotel room and in my room.”
Mike clapped once, loud enough to shake the drinks. I shook my head. It was different coming from Mike; I knew he cared about me, and he wasn’t trying to get a rise. “So what’s the problem?”
“She’s got a brother who’s an addict,” I answered. “He called her yesterday asking for money.”
“Hmm,” Mike answered, still not seeing the threat.
“And he asked her for pills. He thinks she has access to drugs from the treatment center.”
“They have drugs at the treatment center?” Mike questioned.
“Pharmaceuticals,” I explained. “A lot of people have mental problems as well as substance abuse issues. Some of the drugs they’re prescribed could be sold on the black market.”
“Oh.” Mike’s voice fell an octave as he began to grasp the situation.
“She doesn’t have access to the drugs. She just picks them up from the pharmacy and delivers them to the patients. But the brother doesn’t know that and probably doesn’t care.” I laid the entire conundrum out on the table.
“I see,” Mike responded gravely.
“I’m just worried that he’s gonna do something stupid,” I explained. “That he’s gonna come looking for her because he thinks she’s the answer to his problems.”
“How much do you care about this woman?”
“A lot,” I exhaled. “I’m crazy about her.”
“You wouldn’t consider asking her to leave?” He was playing devil’s advocate, just touching on my options. “In case the brother does come, you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“You gotta figure it out, man.” Mike drained his beverage and crushed the can. “If you have real feelings for her, you have to protect her. If you don’t, then you’ll have to cut her loose.”
I nodded, seeing the wisdom in his ultimatum. Did I love Gina? It seemed like I hardly knew her, and yet at the same time, it seemed as if we had always known each other. We hadn’t defined our relationship, but I didn’t want it to end. She was the one person in the world who could understand me, and I was the only one who understood her. Shouldn’t that count for something?
The rest of the day, I wrestled with the question. Sliding boards in and out of pickup trucks, into bins, and even while cutting lumber, I thought about it. I really couldn’t picture my life without her. We had grown so close in a matter of weeks; I hated the thought of sending her packing. She might not be my wife or my girlfriend, but I cared about what happened to her, and I didn’t want to see her hurt.
I resolved to confront her when I got home, to do my best to explain the danger I thought she was in. Short of calling the police or staying with her 24/7, I wasn’t sure exactly what I could do. But I wouldn’t turn tail and run. She was too important to me. I was going to be there for her, whether that meant giving her a place to hide out or checking in on her as often as I could in Nashville.
Throughout the day, I vacillated. Maybe I was making too much out of this. Maybe her brother still retained the humanity that I and thousands of other addicts lost. Maybe he would take her advice and stop calling. Maybe he wasn’t in as deep as I suspected. I comforted myself with these thoughts as I drove home.
Gina’s car wasn’t in the parking lot, but I didn’t think too much of it. I went inside, took a quick shower, changed my clothes, and texted her. She didn’t text back. When five minutes went by, I put my phone down and picked up my book. After fifteen minutes, I texted back: Just want to make sure you’re ok. When she didn’t respond to that, I began to get nervous.