Page 102 of The Complete Truth Duet
“You don’t know what it’s like out there,” she whispered.
I forced my hands to stay on the steering wheel. It didn’t feel right to touch her, not when she was trusting me enough to drop her guard. It was rare she showed any kind of vulnerability, and I personally hadn’t seen any since the day she’d flipped out on Cora for not sleeping with me yet.
Annnnd we were back to Cora.
Shit. I had to focus.
“No,” I replied. “I don’t know what it’s like. And I’m not claiming I do. But I do know how incredible you are when you’re clean. You’re smart, Savannah. And funny. And bright. And beautiful in ways that have nothing to do with your clothes or makeup. But none of that matters if you’re letting drugs ruin the kind of perfect you already are. You’ve dealt with some shit, kid. I do not fault you one bit for anything you’ve done in the past. But, now, it’s time to change. And I told you I’d help with that, and I don’t particularly care if you agreed or not. Because I see something in you, whether you see it in yourself or not.”
Her face got tight, but as I divided my attention between her and the road, I saw the tears sliding down her cheeks.
She hurried to dry them—just like someone else I knew. And couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Jeez. What is this, an after school special?”
I smiled. “What do you know about after school specials? Isn’t that, like, thirty years before your time?”
“Public school education, Penn. Kids twenty years from now will still be watching those things in health class.”
I chuckled, and then we both fell quiet again. I’d spent so much of the last four years praying for the silence and hoping people would leave me alone. But right then, with no clue as to what was going through her head, it bothered me.
“You know I’m only trying to help, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” she told the window.
The trip back to my apartment was a short one. The first time we’d pulled into the underground parking garage, Savannah had had another vocal seizure, exclaiming, “Holy shit! You live here?” This time, though, she didn’t say anything as we rode the elevator up to my three-bedroom, four-thousand-square-foot, sixth-floor apartment.
It was overkill. Completely and totally. I’d had no reason to buy a place that big, or nice, or permanent. I didn’t need it. Deep down, I really just wanted to go back to that shitty building and crawl into Cora’s bed again. Maybe lie there for the rest of my life, alternating between playing Truth or Lie tit-for-tat, listening to her laugh, and making love to her.
Yet, when I’d seen pictures of that apartment online, all I could see was Cora.
Her bare feet padding against the dark wood floor—not a speck of carpet anywhere in sight—as she meandered from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of my button-downs.
Her sleepy smile as she navigated around the large marble island to get to me.
Her arms wrapping around my hips and her face nuzzling against my chest, making me feel more corporeal than I had in my entire life.
Her soft lips brushing mine when she pressed up onto her toes for an all-too-brief kiss before snagging the coffee cup from my hand.
Her sigh as she tipped it back like the caffeine had touched her soul.
Peaceful. Content. Blissed out beyond all explanation.
Cora would never even see that apartment, but with that scenario playing in my head as I’d scrolled through pictures, I’d cleared out another hefty portion of my retirement and bought it—fully furnished—on the spot.
And it was that exact scene that assaulted me when Savannah and I walked inside, the beeping of the security alarm acting as our welcoming committee.
Only, like a rainstorm of razorblades, Cora was nowhere to be found.
And the constant reminder that she never would be was suffocating.
Savannah stepped out of her tall wedges in the middle of the foyer, never breaking her gait as she kept walking.
“Um, hello. Shoes,” I scolded, tapping in a series of numbers into the security panel.
I listened for her huff, maybe an exaggerated groan. She didn’t even acknowledge that I’d spoken.
“Hey!” I called as she disappeared down the hall.
Christ. Teenage girls were a breed of their own.
Kicking her shoes out of the way, I continued into the expansive living room and promptly collapsed onto the chocolate leather sofa. It was not even noon, but I felt like it was midnight. Not surprisingly, I hadn’t been sleeping well. My mind was a jumbled mess of guilt, resentment, and revenge.
But I had shit to do. I couldn’t lie there all day and lose myself the way I so desperately wanted.
Sucking in, I angled up only to stop when Savannah reappeared with a bowl of water and a white grocery sack dangling from her fingers. She’d changed into pink-polka-dot pajama pants and a matching oversized T-shirt I’d picked out for her. Just the day before, she’d told me that they belonged on a six-year-old and threatened to burn them.
