I don’t answer her. I think she’s asking more for herself than for me to answer her.

“I was so scared, I needed to leave, to be by myself. For some unknown reason I knew I could trust him and that he would protect me. Which made me panic even more because I’ve never felt like that before. Stupid, I know.”

“No, not stupid. I know exactly what you mean.”

I can’t fight the sick feeling in my gut that she was in serious shit that night and still is.

“I didn’t want to tell him my real name in case he was working for . . . I mean if he wanted to tell the police. So I threw money at him, the money I was going to use to get a . . . to use for my new place. Yeah, for my new place.”

Okay, so she happens to be the worst liar in the history of the world. There are worse traits than being a lousy liar. It would be cute if I wasn’t dying to know why she had a wad of cash. I also know that she has lived in the same apartment since she’s moved here. I want to ask who she was running from, but I don’t. It’s hard to open up to someone so I won’t push it. Not yet anyways.

I can tell that she is reliving that night instead of sitting at my bar eating dinner. I’ve been forced to relive my past so many times, it’s easy to recognize the signs.

“We haven’t known each other long, but I’m here for you, okay? For whatever you need. You can tell me anything and I will never judge you. Trust me, I am the last person to pass judgement on someone.”

She rises and dumps her still full plate of food in the trash before rinsing it. I finish my last bite and follow her lead of cleaning up.

“I know and thanks! I mean it, I haven’t had a girlfriend since I moved here. Everyone seems so fake here, but that’s kind of the appeal of the city. You can be whoever you want to be here.”

Yeah, I know exactly what she’s talking about. The allure of the city is hard to miss.

“Same here. So friend, are you going to tell me what that money was really for, or what? I mean, come on, let’s be honest, you’re a horrible liar. The worst actually.”

Her hands tremble again. I squeeze them, feeling guiltier and guiltier for pushing her as they continue to shake.

“A gun,” she says simply as if buying a gun is everyday conversation. “An untraceable gun.”

My head whips around to face her so quickly I actually kink my neck. “What?”

She doesn’t look guilty anymore, she looks darker, scary, a complete stranger from the happy-go-lucky Tinkerbell I know and love. “I had to have a gun that couldn’t be traced. Don’t worry, though, everything is fine now.”

Yeah, that sounds convincing.

Chapter Eighteen

I’m busy at work again, but unlike my usual multi-tasking self, I’m finding it exceptionally hard to concentrate. I’m still baffled by Harper’s revelation last night. She wanted to buy a gun. As in, she wanted to shoot someone. Okay, okay she didn’t tell me why she wanted a gun, she changed the subject as quickly as humanly possible, but why else would she need a gun? An untraceable gun to be exact. Did she buy it? I’m losing my mind! I can’t stop seeing her face when she uttered, “a gun.” Out of all the times she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, she chose that time to be quiet. Really? Once again I’m distracted. Hence the reason why I’m skipping lunch the second day in a row.

Shaking my head, I get back to work. Three more hours and I can meet Harper for dinner. I’m excited for a low-key girls’ night. Who knew there was such a thing? I need to get her advice on the whole Kohen-loves-me thing. I could always talk to Liv, but it’s different talking to a friend compared to my therapist. Plus, I know she’s itching for more information on the Lover and Boyfriend front as she likes to call them.

I love how close we’re getting in the short time we’ve known each other. It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for a friend like her my whole life. I’ve always been friends with guys, that’s why I’ve never really been able to have many girlfriends.

After work, Harper and I head towards the subway to go to this little pub. We could have taken a cab, but when she found out that I’ve never been on the subway, she was dragging me behind her. It’s not that I have anything against the it, I just hate being confined and in dark places, since the accident.

I will not freak out. I can do this. People ride the subway every day. I notice my hands are quivering. My mantra isn’t working as well as I thought.

As we get closer, she keeps glancing back and asking if I’m okay. Am I okay? That’s gonna be a hard no. I resemble a scared kitten right about now. I’m sweating and I can’t focus on one thing. I’m trying really hard to control my breathing, but even performing that simple task seems impossible.

She links her arm with mine. “Hey, it’s okay, we can take a cab or even walk if you want to get fresh air. We don’t have to do this.”

I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I think it comes out more as a grimace. I go for nonchalance. “No, really, I’m fine. I need to ride the subway eventually.” I didn’t pull it off from the expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, Addie, I didn’t realize you were claustrophobic.”

If only she knew the extent of it.

“No, really, it’s fine. Besides, you can buy me a drink if I make it through this.”

We board the subway without incident. The trip is over before it even started. Way faster than taking a cab at this hour. I wish I wasn’t having a minor heart attack the entire time so that I could’ve enjoyed it. I’ve always wanted to ride it.

At least I didn’t black out from fear, there’s that. I also didn’t get trapped inside my head. That’s both refreshing and sad when I think about it. It’s refreshing to know that I can do something as simple as riding a subway, and sad that this won’t be the last time I have to fear whether I can handle something.

As we saunter into the Irish pub, I can feel waves of energy bouncing off of everyone. Live music flows through the speakers.

“This is amazing!”

She steers me to a nearby table in the center of the action. “I can’t believe you’ve never been here! How have you survived?”

Survived? Interesting choice of words. I focus on the band on the stage in front of us and sway my hips to the uplifting beat.

“I haven’t.” I meant it as a joke, but it rings with more truth than I wanted to give.

Harper has an amazing instinct on when to push for more information. Now is not the time and she doesn’t ask. I’m thankful. She orders for us since she’s a regular. She knows what is best and I’m not that picky. As long as it’s edible, I’ll usually eat it. Besides, when I peer around at the other tables, the food looks mouthwatering. I don’t think there’s a wrong choice here.

After she returns from the bar with a pitcher of beer and two glasses, she asks, “Okay dish, what’s going on with you and that unbelievably hot doctor?” Her southern accent rings heavy in her voice as she fans herself, making me choke on the sip of beer I just drank.

Luckily me coughing up a lung, maybe even both, buys me enough time to ponder what to say. “Eh, he loves me?”

Her smile slips. “And I’m taking this is a bad thing because?”

I down another swig of beer. “No, it’s not bad. It’s just . . . I don’t know . . . Wrong somehow? I don’t know how I feel. I don’t love him, but maybe in time I can? It’s complicated.”

“Said every girl on earth.” She brushes red bangs out of her face and stares at me for a second as if trying to figure out what to say. “Complicated by the lover, perhaps?”

I glare at my “supposed” friend. “Jax isn’t my lover!”

She gives me a look that is only best described as I’m-so-not-buying-what-you’re-selling. “Yes, and I don’t have red hair or fantastic tits!” she says at the same time our food arrives.