Chaos (Lanie Bross) - Lanie Bross Page 0,1

grabbed her favorite threadbare black sweater on her way out of the room. It was June in San Francisco and she was freezing. Maybe she’d been sick. Fever or flu or something. It would explain the whacked-out dreams she’d had.

Jasmine walked into the kitchen and found Luc sitting at their tiny table, absently looking out the window. There was an untouched piece of toast in front of him. Coffee was brewing, but it barely masked the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

“Hey,” she said. He looked up, relief evident on his face.

“How are you feeling?” He pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for her to sit.

Uh-oh. Luc was in serious mode. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles beneath them. It reminded her too much of when she’d woken up in the hospital after her overdose.

Oh God, had it happened again? Why couldn’t she remember anything? Everything was a haze, and her last clear recollection was of Friday night. She’d gone to meet T.J. to break it off with him.

“Am I in trouble?” Her voice was hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in awhile.

“What? No. Not at all.” He shifted in the cracked plastic chair and looked at her. “I’m just … glad you’re okay.”

“What happened last night? I went to the marina, but after that …”

Luc shook his head. It put her on edge when he was quiet like this—like there was bad news he was trying to break to her. Like when he had to explain to her that their mom had died.

Wait. Had someone died?

Jasmine looked around the apartment. Dad wasn’t on the couch, where he could usually be found sleeping off a hangover. Dread pooled in her stomach.

“Dad?” The word squeezed out through her tight throat. “Did something happen to Dad?”

“No, he’s okay,” Luc said. “He checked into some residential detox program.”

“He what?”

“He decided he wanted to get sober,” Luc said, poking at the toast. “After you came home he said he wanted to get sober for us.”

Jas couldn’t understand how casually her brother was treating the news. Their dad was not the kind of man who asked for help, who admitted to an addiction.

“Which hospital? I need to see this for myself.” She stood up and immediately felt dizzy, like the floor was dropping out from under her. She placed a hand on the table to steady herself.

“Whoa,” Luc said, standing to ease her back into the chair. “We’re not going anywhere. Not yet, at least. The roads are still a mess and you’ve been gone for two days—”

“Two days? It’s Saturday,” she interrupted. “What are you talking about? And why are the roads a mess?”

“Jas, it’s Sunday,” Luc said. “And there was an earthquake …”

“That’s impossible,” she insisted. Nothing felt familiar. The single bulb over their heads flickered; she felt a sting of pain as if the light shot straight through her brain. This was worse than a hangover, she was sure. She rubbed her throbbing temple and tried to focus.

Why couldn’t she remember what had happened after the marina? If she went to see T.J., it was possible she took something—but she hadn’t wanted to take anything after the overdose. Not ever again.

“What happened to me, Luc? It wasn’t drugs again, was it?” She had to be sure.

“No.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, exhaled deeply. “I found you at the rotunda. There was this woman, Miranda …” He cut himself off. “You know what? It’s not really important. The important thing is that you’re home and that you’re careful from now on.”

“How can I be careful if I don’t know what happened?”

“Jas, so much has happened in the last couple of days.” He closed his eyes and took a ragged breath in. “Can we talk about this later?”

The last thing she wanted to do was talk about it later. He was keeping something from her and she wanted answers—now. But she could tell that Luc was upset. He’d done so much for her over the years, taken care of her when their dad hadn’t. If he needed time, she would give it to him.

“Fine,” she said as she leaned back in the chair. “But I need to get out of this apartment.”

Luc had been more overprotective than ever, and it had taken a whole lot of convincing for him to stay home. He looked exhausted anyway, and Jasmine needed to be alone to think. She walked to the end of the street, where a large dump truck