Page 56 of Pretty Thing

Dammit. I haven’t checked the mail since the accident. Opening the flap, my heart drops as I stare at a mountain of envelopes stuffed in so tightly it looks like one giant ball.

I open my purse and start pulling it all out, one piece at a time, smoothing each one as I go. By the time I’m done, it looks like I’m carrying a basketball around.

The sound of a car coming down the street makes my heart flip. I look up, hoping to see Felix, but it’s a red sedan—my ride-share.

I take a step, not paying attention to my sprained ankle, and slip on a patch of ice. Nothing hurts like falling on freezing pavement. Pain shoots through my body, and I hold my breath, staying perfectly still despite the icy slush soaking into my clothes.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” The woman gets out and rushes over.

Why is everything so hard? Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back, determined not to cry in front of another stranger who doesn’t need to deal with my trauma.

I don’t bother answering her question and just nod.

“Here, let me help you up.”

She wraps her arm around my side, and her finger presses right over my cracked ribs.

“Ahh…”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.”

She lets go, and I almost fall over again. With my good leg and the cane, I manage to stand.

I look down. Water drips from my clothing. I’m shivering, and there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t hurt.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

Yes!

“No, I have to get to this appointment.”

“Okay, let me put a towel on the seat,” she says, darting away, leaving me to limp over to her vehicle alone.

Why did I tell Felix to give me space? Why was having his help a bad thing?

Once I’m seated in the car, she turns up the heat, helping to quell the shaking. By the time we reach the law office, I’ve learned just about everything I’d ever want to about Shannon and her life. I haven’t said a single word.

I shuffle inside, appearing much older than my eighteen-almost-nineteen years.

“Hi, I’m Eden Hale. I have an appointment with Mr. Davidson.”

The receptionist offers me a warm smile.

“Follow me, please.”

She leads me to a room with a table and two chairs. If it weren’t for the plant in the corner, a framed photo on the wall, and the chairs being leather, I’d say it looks more like an interrogation room.

“Would you like coffee or tea?”

“English Breakfast, with a touch of milk would be great.”

The chair is comfortable when I sit down, and I can’t be bothered trying to get out of my coat. Mr. Davidson walks in a moment later, his face serious as he sits across from me and places a folder down on the table.

“Eden, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“There are a few things we must go over today, and then there are other things that you will have to think about and let me know. Are you ready to get started?”