Catch Me When I Fall (Catch Me Duet #1)

Prologue

Carrie

“I don’t know what’s she going to do now.”

“Honestly, what can she do?”

“Nothing. She’s going to be in here the rest of her life.”

A moment of silence followed as I kept my breathing steady, eyes closed.

The nurses thought I was sleeping, that the drugs they gave me an hour ago were now in my stomach, dissolving and seeping into my system.

They weren’t.

The pills were under my pillow, stuffed into a Ziploc bag I’d swiped from Detective—now Chief—Amara Harrison when she came to visit.

“She was pretty once.”

Great, now they’re talking about my weight gain.

“Yeah, and her husband?” The nurse made sound of appreciation. “He was fine.”

The other nurse hummed in agreement. “It’s just so sad, ya know?”

“That she’s going to be rotting in this bed for the rest of her life? Her husband’s death? Or the part about her father being a pedophile?”

There it is.

“All of it. She was the princess of this city and now…” The woman trailed off as my throat started to burn.

“Yeah,” the other nurse sighed.

I heard the door close and I turned my head into the pillow.

Holding my breath, I pushed the nightmare to the back of my mind. For the first time in over a year, I was thinking clearly about one thing and one thing only.

I wasn’t going to rot in here.

Once the door closed, I sat up, my eyes scanning the darkened room I’d been sequestered in for the last ten months. As far as rehabilitation rooms went, I’d consider this first class. I had a bar-covered window with a view of the pond outside, a twin-sized bed, a small bathroom with a standing shower, and a short bookcase that held three books.

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Paris Wife

To Kill a Mockingbird

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tossed my legs over the side of the bed as I slid off, my bare feet greeting the cold tile. Without looking back at the bed I’d been rotting in for the last chapter of my life, I moved over to the small dresser, grabbing one of the four outfits I had.

Leggings and a Cardinals hoodie.

I pulled the sleeping gown over my head before tugging the leggings up my legs, trying to ignore how much muscle tone I’d lost. Once I had the hoodie on, I gently pulled the dresser away from the wall to reach the small backpack I had hiding behind it.

It held three bottles of water, two oranges, and a handful of granola bars, and I stuffed the rest of my clothes inside before turning to the books. Zipping the backpack closed, I moved into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, pulled my mess of blonde curls into a bun with the only ponytail holder I had, and then went to the toilet. As quietly as I could, I lifted the back lid and set it on top of the bowl.

As I peeked over the side, my heart skipped a beat as relief washed over me.

It was still there.

I grabbed the small Ziploc bag from the water that contained my new bank card, some cash, and a burner phone. It had taken me weeks to get them, but once Amara had given me my laptop a month ago, it made things a lot easier. My father had given me a trust fund when I’d turned eighteen, and he assumed I blew it all.

I didn’t.

I saved every penny, and continued saving well into adulthood.

I was saving for my happy ending. I never thought I’d end up saving to survive a nightmare.

I fixed the toilet, walked back into the room, and shoved my feet into the shitty tennis shoes I was provided with six months ago.

Then, I went to stand in front of the door.

The light in the hall was off, which meant the nurses were at the nurses’ station, scrolling on their phones. It was a routine, one I was very familiar with. I twisted my neck to look at the unmade bed in the moonlight, taking in the thin white sheets, lumpy mattress, and flat pillow.

Like hell I was rotting here.

I looked back to the door and stepped forward.

I opened the door, stepping out into the hall. I looked left and right—the coast was clear.

I walked down the hall, pulling the hood up and ducking my head.

I made a right, heading down to the employee entrance. Once at the door, I entered in the code I’d memorized two days ago. The door unlocked with a soft click, and my eyes stung at the music of it.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the night.

Then, I pulled out the burner phone and ordered a taxi, meeting it at the local pizza joint down the street.

The taxi took me to the airport and I paid the kind driver in cash.

Once inside the airport, I walked up to the counter and purchased a ticket for the first plane out of the St. Louis.

Eight hours later, I landed in Oregon, leaving my old life behind.

St. Louis was nothing but a memory now.