Losing Track: A Living Heartwood Novel by Wolfe Trisha

Author:Wolfe, Trisha [Wolfe, Trisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Melody

An undercurrent in my sea of waves, crashing

ALMOST A WEEK SINCE I was released from Stoney and I’m still sober—for the most part.

I got a part-time gig at a coffee shop a few blocks down from my apartment. Which is a completely different clientele than I’m used to making drinks for. Although Randy offered me full time hours at the bar, I had to reject that sympathetic handout. Doesn’t mean I don’t drop in for a beer myself, but I make sure it’s a time when the MC aren’t around, like when Jesse’s working at the mechanic shop with Tank.

There’s a small group of the Lone Breed staying in town until Jesse’s acquitted of all charges. Which his fancy lawyer believes will be really soon. And I am relieved, honestly. Regardless of how I turned on him yesterday at that backyard brawl thing, what I said…I do know in my heart the wreck wasn’t Jesse’s fault. And I do think it’s best if he leaves here. Leaves me.

Being around Jesse more and more…it’s getting difficult not to think of doing a line, or taking a hit, of letting go, getting one last high... I know he’s always got a bag of something on him.

So for now, I dull the cravings with beer, and stay away from the hard stuff. I attend group meetings. Never talking, just listening, but I’m there. Then I head to my mostly empty, cavernous apartment alone.

That’s the hardest thing I’ve faced so far; living alone. All of my stuff fits into one corner of the bedroom. I have no cooking supplies. No TV. No real furniture. The apartment came furnished with the bare essentials; bed, couch, a small bar connected to the kitchen with two stools. But it’s the littlest, saddest, most depressing apartment in the world.

Darla filled any space with her large presence. Without her, the place is a hollow shell. I try to spend as little time there as possible. Though I did buy a home warming present for myself: a calendar. It hangs on the fridge, and every morning before work I cross out another day. My probation hearing just under five months away circled in thick red marker.

I’ve never had to do anything by a schedule, ever. Now, that’s my life. Everything scheduled down to the hour. Group meetings. PO appointments. Bill payments. Like electric and water. Things I’ve never had to keep up with before.

A wave of unease washes over me as I start to think about all the things I have to keep track of. And I wonder, not for the first time, if Nurse Bridge can be coaxed into recommending me to a doctor where I can score some anxiety meds.

But then there’s all the hassle I’d have to go through. Approval from my PO; statements sent to my counselors at group about my medication so my drug tests don’t pop. It’s not worth the effort. I’ll stick with beer.

The irony in all this: I was always the responsible one out of the Dar and me duo.

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