The Last Shot by Amy Matayo

Author:Amy Matayo [Matayo, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills Ink, Inc.
Published: 2020-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Jane

Seattle comes by its reputation honestly. The city is known for its incessant love for rainy days and its uncanny ability to inflict depression on otherwise healthy people. And this week, both are working in tandem to spin their black magic on me.

It has rained for four days straight with no letup—not even the customary mid-afternoon reprieve to give people a chance to make a coffee run, haul their trash to the curb, go for a walk without having to come home wet. Coincidently, my tears have fallen for nearly as many days, save the workday lull when grown men are present. When other people are in the room, I somehow pull it together. When they walk out, the dam breaks loose, and I’m reapplying mascara on my lunch break.

That counselor. He couldn’t have been more wrong if he had guessed I was a professional ballerina who also dabbles in woodworking, but that doesn’t mean his words didn’t affect me. That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about them a hundred times since our last appointment.

I think you have some deep-seated issues to deal with.

I think most of them involve your baby.

I don’t have baby issues.

“Jane, are you alright?”

Startled, I jump and drop the unopened Snickers bar I’ve just retrieved from my purse. Peyton, a petite curly-headed brunette who works loans and is my best work-friend, leans against the open breakroom door, sipping a can of Sprite through a straw.

“I’m fine.” My voice cracks on the words, exposing the lie. As if the wetness on my cheeks wasn’t enough of an indicator that I am, in fact, not fine. Five minutes until lunch break is over, and I haven’t been able to keep my eyes dry long enough to fix myself. The last thing I want is to see the concerned face of yet another co-worker whose mind should be on business as usual—not on whether her best friend is on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She swallows. “You’re not okay at all. Anything you want to talk about?”

I run two fingers under my eyes. “Not unless you have all day, and only if you promise not to charge me one-fifty an hour for your time.” I sigh and turn toward the mirror hanging over the sink. It’s worse than I thought. Even if I can get the black stuff off my skin, there’s no hiding the redness unless I want to slip on a pair of sunglasses and look like a hungover sorority girl.

“You’re going to counseling then. Thank goodness.”

I shoot her a look. “He is a jerk, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m crazy. Nice to know you’re happy about it.”

“Oh, shut up.” She rolls her eyes. “If I’d had a gun pointed at my head...if I were locked inside a closet...if I had seen the things you saw, I would be in counseling, too. As it stands, I sometimes go to help me kick my shoplifting habit.”

I look at her, a big bite of chocolate in my mouth.

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