Page 73 of The Logic of Loyalty

That’s not what I meant to say. I mean that it wasn’t even about her. She was just there when I needed someone.

Shit. That also sounds terrible.

I guess no matter what I say is going to sound terrible since what I did was terrible.

It was never out of a lack of love for you. You are still my world. Life is colorless without you. My soul misses yours everyday. Things will start to change soon, I promise it’s coming sooner than later. It’s all for you and our family.

Trevor Calling …

I ignore the call and watch as the transcript picks up, imagining his voice as it plays across the screen.

Hey bab—Paige. I’m just letting you know that I will text you like I have been when I stop by to pick up Jacob for our night together. I’ll have him home in time for his early school night bedtime. I … miss you, so much it hurts. Ahem Anyway, I need to talk to you after I drop him off. It won’t take long. Love—I love you, baby. Stay safe. Drink your orange juice and check your blood pressure.

I put the SUV into drive and make my way back to town, heading to the gas station on the far end to support the locally owned station with the best breakfast. I feel safe driving it, but I miss the thirty-miles-per-gallon Subaru. I felt safe in that. I don’t know what I’m doing, though. It’s not like I know how to buy a car. Trevor always did that …

But Trevor also always did the dishes.

He also always figured out when wires got tripped, or got the groceries.

He was always the one to get me off.

“I’m doing all of that, dammit!” That’s when fate gives me a nudge on the shoulder, so I look over just as I pass by a car lot. A Subaru, identical to my own, is sitting in the center of the front lawn of someone’s home, waiting there with a lovely FOR SALE sign on the windshield.

Perfect.

I pull into our house with lighter pockets and in my brand-new-to-me car: a perfect, five-year-old Subaru Outback. I called Billy when I had a few questions about what I should look for, but when he offered to come look at it, I told him that I would send him some pictures, and if he saw anything concerning, I’d let him come talk to me. Something in the background of the call seemed off to me, but I was too focused on my efforts to pay too close attention. He agreed quickly, shushing whoever he was with, though I have my suspicions.

Miraculously, Billy didn’t see anything concerning in the pictures I sent, and he asked for tons. Apparently, the lady got the car from her great aunt, who was recently put in a nursing home. She wanted it gone and gave me an incredible deal on it. Within an hour of arriving, I left with a small, reasonable loan and my own car. I was able to mostly pay for it without draining my checking account, but I saw an opportunity to build my credit. It seemed like a good plan for future decisions.

I feel giddy with pride, but a little sliver of guilt creeps in when I think about leaving the Suburban there. Billy said he’d help make sure it got home, so it’s not like I sold it. The idea of completely getting rid of the Suburban hurts in a way I don’t want to consider.

Sitting in my driveway, my brain starts to drift.

I think about what those girls said about me. About what happened with Caroline, Josh, Trevor, and Krista. I think about how they viewed me. I think about how Josh has cut my hours down to practically nothing. I think about a lot, and look up at my porch just to see Trevor waiting for me.

Great. I forgot to think about this talk.

Chapter Twenty-Four

TREVOR

“You’re here early.” Billy stands from the desk and crosses over to me, then ushers me to his seat. “Look over these scribbles for me. I can’t read a fucking thing in these books.”

I shrug off my suit jacket and roll up my shirt sleeves to my elbows. “You know, I really thought that there would be more working on cars in a job for working on cars.”

“I have plenty of technicians and zero number magicians.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “Too much Dr. Seuss.”

“Number magician.” I school my features and nod my head seriously. “Of course.”

“Shut the fuck up and sit down.”

“I would not sit down at this desk. I could not sit down with this mess.”

“Jesus Christ, I changed my mind. You’re fired.”

Sitting in the office seat, I pull the book closer and start my magic. Thirty minutes later, my phone beeps with a new message. Paige. I open the text, a small blossom of hope blooming, but my stomach fills with acid when I read the message she sent. Everything else around me disappears, and agony thrums with each beat of my heart as her words move in and out of focus.

Paige