Chapter 65 Asha
ASHA
If failing to locate the Soul Collector had wounded my confidence, being unable to find the man I loved was a fatal hit.
The more I tried to chase Rook’s trail, the more I realized he’d cut it clean. His email account, gone. His bank accounts, scrubbed. No new charges, no flights I could pin him to. I tore through immigration databases, ferry logs, and property records. Nothing.
Rook O’Connell knew how to disappear, and he’d done it with brutal efficiency.
I’d be impressed if he weren’t hiding from me.
The jerk.
Even though he’d vanished without a trace, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still watching. I’d catch myself glancing at the smoke detector in the ceiling of my living room, the one I knew had a hidden camera behind its plastic shell. Months ago, I’d seen the feed on his wall of screens.
Sometimes, I talked to it. Sometimes, I cried.
Sometimes, I masturbated on the sofa, my eyes trained on the smoke detector so Rook knew I was thinking of him.
Lately, I’d been flipping it the bird while cussing out my ex-husband.
Maybe Rook wasn’t watching me at all. Maybe I’d turned into a crazy person who held daily conversations with a smoke detector.
Most days, it felt like I was losing my mind.
I thought about going to Ireland. The map made it look deceptively small. Little more than a green stone dropped in the Atlantic. But up close, it was a labyrinth of towns, villages, and countryside. Five million people. Countless places to hide. Where the hell was I supposed to start?
And then there was my new neighbor, Rita. She’d moved into the apartment across the hall on D-Day.
That was what I was calling it.
It stood for Dumping Day.
Departure Day.
Double Go fuck yourself, gangster Day.
Rita looked like she’d been plucked straight from the Marine Corps. She almost always had a toothpick hanging from her lips and glared at me like I was perpetually failing a fitness test. She answered any questions with vague, one-word responses.
I’d bet my life Rook had planted her there as an undercover babysitter.
She had nothing on Finn.
Once, out of sheer spite, I’d considered inviting a man back to my apartment just to see what would happen.
Would Rita storm in and throw him from the roof of the building?
Would Rook crawl out of the shadows, wild-eyed and jealous?
The thought of some poor guy catching the brunt of any repercussions stopped me cold. I couldn’t do it.
So I didn’t do anything.
I didn’t touch my podcast. Couldn’t bring myself to sit in front of the mic and talk about other people’s tragedies when mine was eating me alive.
I didn’t go out. I didn’t exercise. I drank too much.
My apartment looked like the aftermath of a frat party.
Washing my hair felt like hard work. I’d run out of clean clothes last week and hadn’t done anything about it.
I hardly ate.
I looked like shit and felt even worse.
I almost didn’t pick up the phone when Daisy called. I only answered because I’d had three glasses of wine and when I’d tried to hit the Decline button, I’d accidentally accepted.
“Hey.” I plastered on a cheerful voice that sounded as convincing as Oscar the Grouch at a baby shower.
“What are you doing?” Daisy asked. There were people and music in the background. It sounded like she was at a bar.
“Eating dinner.”
Daisy sighed. “Please tell me it’s not ramen again.”
“Way classier than that. Boxed wine and grated cheese.” I shoved my hand into the bag and tossed a fistful into my mouth.
“I thought you said the runaway asshole left twenty mil in your bank account?”
Daisy and Beth knew everything.
They knew about Rook’s stalking, how he’d forced me to marry him and manipulated me into hunting his brother’s murderer. I’d told them about the recording studio, the gifts, and the thoughtful things he’d done to make me happy.
They’d put two and two together and guessed who was responsible for Greg Holbrook’s disappearance.
They knew that Rook had been in love with me and how I’d fallen for him.
I’d cried my eyes out for a whole afternoon when I’d told them he’d broken my fucking heart.
“It’s fifty million,” I corrected her. “And I haven’t touched it, because if I do, it makes it real. It means I’ve accepted that he’s not coming back, and I’m not ready to do that.”
My vision blurred as hot tears filled my eyes. I took a gulp of red wine and shuddered at the vinegary aftertaste. I was down to the last twenty bucks in my bank account. I couldn’t afford the good stuff. Not unless I drew on the money Rook had left me, and I just couldn’t.
“Honey, it’s been three months without even a text. Maybe it’s time to let him go. You need to start living again.”
“I can’t.” I released the bag of cheese and dropped my face into my hands. The tears I’d been holding at bay fell freely. My chest heaved with ragged sobs.
If I didn’t sort myself out soon, the girls would stage an intervention. They’d force me to do everyday things as if I hadn’t had my heart ripped from my chest and stomped on. How was I supposed to pretend everything was fine?
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Daisy said firmly.
“You’re going to shower. And I don’t mean splash water on your face and spray your armpits with deodorant.
I mean an everything shower. Exfoliate, shave, and for God’s sake, woman, wash your hair.
Twice. Who knows what critters are nesting in there. ”
“Hey!” I snapped.
“I’m not done. Then, you’re going to put on a bucketload of makeup and a slutty dress, one that makes your tits look huge. Wear heels—tall ones. Meet Beth and me at Velvet and Vine in two hours, or I’ll come over there and style you myself.”
A shudder rippled through me. The last time I’d let Daisy help me get ready was prom. My own mother didn’t recognize the redhead in the photos with my date.
“Okay. I’ll come out. Just…don’t expect much from me. I’m not in the business of making miracles happen.”
But spending time with my friends wasn’t a terrible idea. If anyone could breathe life into the corpse I’d become, it was my girls.