Chapter 23 #3
Oakland reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
He just stood there for a few minutes, shoulders shaking, hands still clutching his dog’s tiny paw. Then, all at once, his breath hitched, and he crumpled forward, folding over the table, pressing his forehead against the still-warm fur.
A sob tore out of him.
Oakland looked away.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her heart pounding, but she said nothing.
She just let him grieve.
After what felt like an eternity, he straightened. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his movements slow and mechanical. The guy turned to her; his expression twisted in something worse than grief—disgust.
Like she gave up.
Like she was just as useless as she felt.
Oakland swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t budge.
She was failing everyone lately.
She failed her church. She failed her family. She failed herself. She failed Christine.
And now, she failed this guy.
She couldn’t take it, not for one more second. She stepped out of the room.
She needed to let Christine off the hook - that’s the least she could do.
Her fingers fumbled for her phone, hands shaking as she pulled up Christine’s message.
Her vision blurred as she typed, barely thinking, barely breathing.
Oakland
Are you there?
* * *
The air was brutal tonight. Sharp, slicing wind that knifed through Oakland’s scarf and sent snowflakes stinging against her exposed skin. Every gust carried a fresh slap of winter misery, and she welcomed it. The sting distracted her from everything else she was feeling.
She rechecked her phone. There were still no messages. There was just a dark screen and her own reflection, her eyes tired and her mouth set in a grim line.
Today was such a disaster.
She reflected on the dog she had lost. One second, there was a life in front of her, and the next, there wasn’t.
And all she could do was stand there.
Her fingers curled tighter around her useless phone as she trudged up the icy hill toward the light rail platform, boots sinking deep into the fresh snow.
She never realized this hill’s steepness before tonight, but suddenly, it felt massive, like it was mocking her.
Her feet slipped more than once, and she was sure she had aged five years by the time she reached the top.
She barely had time to catch her breath before looking at the arrival screen.
GREEN LINE: PLEASE CHECK SCHEDULES.
BLUE LINE: PLEASE CHECK SCHEDULES.
Shit. No trains. No ride home.
Her jaw clenched as she pulled out her phone and tapped the transit app, but she already knew what it would say: Service was temporarily suspended due to weather.
Of course.
She could sleep at the clinic. She’d done it before. But not tonight.
Not with that dog’s body still there. Not with the silence pressing in from every corner, cold, clinical, and final.
She’d seen death before, too much of it, probably, but this one felt different. Too sudden. Too cruel. Snuffed out by a machine, a thing, unable to show remorse. No justice. Just a carcass in a freezer that hummed like nothing happened.
Her chest tightened. She couldn’t stay there.
Before she could sink too far into self-pity, her phone buzzed. Christine.
Christine
I’m here.
That was it. No extra words. No questions.
Oakland bit off her glove and held it between her teeth as she started to type a response, then stopped.
Birkenbrew was only a few blocks away. She could just go. She could end this in person, saying what needed to be said.
She deleted her half-written message, stuffed her phone in her pocket, and started walking.
Getting down the hill turned out to be even worse than going up.
She took a few cautious steps before the ice took over, sending her into a desperate, barely-controlled slide.
Arms flailing, she managed to keep herself upright—mostly—but by the time she reached level ground, her heart was hammering.
The two-block walk to Birkenbrew gave her just enough time to cycle through every version of this conversation in her head.
“This can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s too much.”
The words felt thin. Hollow. But she didn’t know how to do this.
She turned onto 4th Street, still running the script in her head—when her boot hit a patch of ice, and her feet flew out from under her.
One blink later, she was flat on her back, sprawled across the cement.
, Pain exploded through her tailbone, sharp and immediate.
All she could do for a second was lie there, blinking up at the swirling snowflakes above her, feeling the ache settle deep into her bones.
Then she felt it—the awkward crunch in her back pocket.
No. No, no, no.
She fumbled for her phone, flipped it over, and—yep. Shattered. It took a lot to break a screen like that. She briefly wondered if her ass was cracked too.
A strangled noise clawed out of her throat, half groan, half bitter laugh.
She let her head fall back into the snow. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
It was fine. It was so fine. Just one more thing breaking tonight.
?