Found in You(113)

“Oh, no! What’s wrong? You sound like you’ve been crying.”

I hadn’t been crying—I was crying. “I’d rather talk in person. Are you free to meet up?”

The elevator doors opened in the lobby of Pierce Industries. Dammit. Now I was surrounded by people. I hid my hair over my face, wishing I had my sunglasses, and hurried to the main doors.

“I could do later. Like, this afternoon. Would that work?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t comprehend the next fifteen minutes, let alone hours ahead of now. “Let me think. I have to see my brother. Sometime this afternoon. Even though I don’t want to. I don’t know.” I was repeating myself, my mind a fog.

I stepped out onto the street and walked until the glass doors turned into wall. I slumped against the brick. “I’m not really able to make any decisions right now.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re upset.” Celia seemed distracted as she spoke. “You said your brother’s in town? Brian? Is he staying with you at the penthouse?”

“God, no. The Waldorf. It’s Brian’s favorite place in the world.”

“I’m doing a design install in the foyer at Fit Nation on Fifty-First. There’s a coffee shop next door. How about we meet there around two? You’ll be close to the Waldorf, as well.”

Even though it was hours away, I felt better. Not great, but better. “Perfect. Thank you, Celia.”

“Anytime.”

I glanced at the digital clock before pocketing my phone. It was a little after nine. It felt like I’d packed a whole day into a short morning. Whatever I would do for the next few hours was beyond me.

“Ms. Withers?”

I looked up to find Jordan standing at the curb with the Maybach.

“Mr. Pierce suggested I drive you somewhere. To the penthouse or the club, perhaps?”

That was Hudson. Always looking out for me, even when I wanted nothing of the sort. It was actually a relief to have Jordan there. I’d been so muddled that I hadn’t thought to text him for a ride.

With a reluctant gratefulness, I climbed into the back seat. “I don’t want to be at the penthouse. The club, I suppose.”


I spent the rest of the morning shuffling papers around in the office and staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop. I couldn’t seem to get my mind to concentrate on anything. In the past when I felt stressed and unsettled, I resorted to old habits, fell into obsessive behaviors. Those patterns calmed and relaxed me with their compulsive nature. But instead of feeling the need to act, I felt the need to shut down—curl up in a ball and sleep until I felt nothing.

Fuck, I was screwed up. Still. I’d felt cured with Hudson, but I still didn’t know how to handle emotions. I didn’t know what normal people did when they hurt. I regretted missing my group session the day before. I needed it now.

Or at least I needed Lauren—my favorite group leader.

In the evenings, Lauren volunteered to lead Addicts Anonymous and some other groups at a Unitarian church nearby. I’d attended faithfully for years, only recently slipping into a part-time goer. But I hadn’t found Lauren at Addicts Anonymous. I’d originally met her at Stanton Addiction Center, a rehab facility where she worked as a counselor during the day. I’d been a patient for a short time after I’d violated my restraining order with Paul. Brian, decent lawyer that he was, had been able to negotiate that instead of jail time.

It was a quarter to noon. If I hurried, I could probably catch her on her lunch break.

I texted Jordan and within twenty minutes I’d made it to the center.