The Endless Road to Sunshine - Nicky James Page 0,12

while making heart eyes at my goddamn staff picture on his tablet.”

Levi choked out a laugh. “He what?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. What a moron.”

“Yeah, sure, but was he cute?”

“Conversation over.”

“Jason—”

“No. He’s a student. They don’t get categorized like that. Plus, he’s probably twenty years old, and the very last fucking thing I need in my life right now is more problems. I’m trying to divorce my serial killer husband while making a new life in a city six hours from home because the media won’t leave me alone. My family disowned me, my mental health is hanging by a thread, and the mere idea of ever entering another relationship makes me physically ill. I’m serious. I want to vomit right now because I will never be able to trust a single human being ever again. So this conversation and all you thought to say ends now. I will not even joke about it. Got it?”

“Wow, you really are miserable today.”

“Fuck off.” I clicked my key fob, unlocking my car. “Okay. I’m at my car, and I’m going home. Maybe I’ll die in my sleep tonight and save you the trouble of this meeting Friday.”

Another heavy sigh hit my ears. “Jason?”

“What?”

“Do me a favor. Call your therapist. Get a referral for someone local. You need to work this shit out.”

“Goodbye, Levi.” I hung up on him and tossed my phone into the cup holder.

With my head resting on the steering wheel and fists clasped so tight in my lap my nails dug grooves into my palms, I counted to ten, evening out my breathing. My head throbbed with the racing beat of my heart.

I hadn’t asked for this.

I hadn’t asked for any of this.

I’d rented an apartment a good ten-minute drive from the university. It was bland and unremarkable in every way. Small. Old. It had no character and resembled something a student might rent on a tight budget. The walls were freshly painted—eggshell white—but the carpeting was threadbare. At one time, I thought it might have been soft gray, but the years of wear and stains had turned it more of a muddy brown. The stench of stale sweat, mold, and cigarettes lingered in the air. The appliances were from the eighties, chipped and rusty, the linoleum flooring in the galley kitchen was peeling and broken from years of abuse.

Levi had begged me to go house hunting and find someplace new, someplace to call mine where I could settle and start again. Windsor, Ontario was supposed to be my fresh start, my new hometown, but I didn’t feel it. Not yet. Besides, what if people in this town discovered who I was? What if I was run out of here too?

I didn’t want to plant roots, so the apartment sufficed.

My entire life felt surreal, like I was floating in an abyss. Everything around me was warped and undefined, blurred and out of focus. I was unsure where I belonged, torn from one reality and launched into another—not by choice but out of necessity.

I tossed my keys on a small table by the door and threw my briefcase on the worn leather couch I’d purchased from some local, online garage sale. None of the scarce furniture in the apartment was new, and I didn’t care. I’d grabbed it all cheap. This new, minimalistic lifestyle suited me fine. I already had a house full of stuff I didn’t know what to do with back in Kingston—treasures Morgan and I had collected over the years. Everything in that house was tainted now, and I couldn’t fathom bringing anything along when I’d moved. There were too many memories entwined with that stuff. Memories I’d rather forget.

This wasn’t a life. I wasn’t sure it ever could or would be again. Morgan had stripped me of everything. The past twenty years had been a lie.

I stood with the fridge door open, scanning the bare shelves. My appetite was nonexistent lately. Cooking was a chore, and I didn’t have the energy for it. The headaches didn’t help.

Abandoning the fridge, I collapsed onto the couch and closed my eyes. There was too much noise in my brain. Never any peace. It never went away. Throughout the day, it grew louder and louder until it was intolerable. It made my bones ache and my muscles throb.

Levi was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I was spiraling.

It was nearing five, but I called my therapist’s office back in Kingston, assuming my doctor would be almost done