against the tile. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
I heave a sigh and ignore her impatient tone. This box is heavy, and I may only be one month pregnant, but I am pregnant nonetheless, and that means she can just wait. I try not to be too annoyed—we’re working for a good cause after all, and honestly, it’s nice just to see Clara back to her old self.
One month ago, the blonde with the bright emerald eyes glaring at me from the door of the rehabilitation center was a different person. Her curls were limp, her pale skin waxy. She has always been petite and thin, but her bones jutted through papery skin, and she looked like she might collapse into a pile of dust at any moment.
She’s still a little too skinny, but I’ve been monitoring her recovery, and she has exceeded all expectations so far. No purple heroin, no alcohol, nothing. She’s teetotal and all the better for it. Most people would rest for a little while after the kind of traumatic experiences Clara has overcome in the past six months, but not Clara. She’s back on her feet and anxious to help those still struggling.
I reach the doors, and Clara takes the box from me. “There are two more in the car,” she says, and disappears into the hall.
The second I turn, I note a shadow melting into the scenery out of the corner of my eye. There’s a black car with tinted windows hanging out across the street as well. These days, I am never alone. They try not to be too obvious, but my guards certainly don’t hide. I know they’re hanging around to ensure my safety, but I’d wager that part of it is to make sure I feel Gabriel’s presence all day, every day. The guards are a reminder that although I am living my life outside of his sphere of influence, my freedom is merely on loan.
I grab the next box from the car and heave it up the stairs. This one is heavier. It’s the one with all the canned goods in it. I have to adjust my grip a couple times, but I get it up the stairs just as Clara reappears to take it.
“I’ll meet you inside?” she says.
I nod, catching my breath, and head back to the car for the last box. I’m warm now, despite the chilly fall air. The leaves down this street have already all jumped ship from their respective trees, and the branches look bare and skeletal. I am already looking forward to Christmas, and it feels strange to have something normal to look forward to. I miss Gabriel every single day, but I’ve also missed my life having even a semblance of normalcy. I feel more like myself than I have in months.
Even with the around-the-clock security detail. In fact, with everything I’ve been through, I feel a lot safer having them around.
I grab the last box and go to find Clara in the kitchen. She is unloading groceries onto the stainless steel counter, arranging the boxes and cans by food type, brows knit in concentration.
“I think I’m going to make chili tonight,” she says. “I’ll need to go back to the store and grab a load of ground beef.”
“Joey will lose his mind,” I reply, unpacking my box onto the counter.
We have spent most of the morning running around collecting donations from various stores. There’s enough food here to feed the rehab’s residents for at least a week. Joey is one of the residents, not even old enough to drink yet, but in possession of a pernicious heroin habit. He has a bit of a crush on Clara and always raves about her cooking, especially when she makes chili.
“All the more reason to make it,” Clara says with a bright smile. “Will you come with me to the store when we’re done here?”
“Of course.”
“We should have time before Georgia’s meeting with the district attorney, right?” She wrinkles her nose. “I promised I would come with her. I’m teaching a class after that, so I won’t have time.”
Georgia is one of the residents here, who Clara has taken under her wing even more than the others. She is facing drug charges at the moment, and Clara is providing emotional support.
I check the time on my phone. “As long as we get this put away quickly.”
Both of us speed up, and within a few minutes, all of the food has been neatly