She attempted a nonchalant expression. “Oh, you know, I might’ve broken my dry spell.”
Leesha’s face lit and she smacked a hand on her desk. “Hot damn! Really? That’s a huge breakthrough—huge!”
Georgia laughed. “Oh, it definitely was. Huge, that is.”
Leesha blinked, obviously surprised to hear her make a joke. It was something old Georgia would’ve done. But Leesha recovered quickly and grinned wide. “Lucky bitch.”
“So you’re not going to lecture me on why I shouldn’t sleep with a guy on the first date or how I should take things slow?”
She snorted. “This wasn’t exactly a first date. If he knew you were watching, you’ve been somewhat intimate for months, even if it was through glass. And honestly, I think something casual and fun with a guy could help. Beyond needing face-to-face connections with the outside world, trusting someone enough to be sexual with them is a big step in repairing the damage Phillip left you with. It shows progress.”
“Me screwing my hot neighbor is progress? I like your version of therapy, Dr. Richards,” she teased, trying to keep the mood light. She wanted to have a fun chat with her friend. She didn’t want to think about treatment plans and goals and how Colby could fit onto that list. She didn’t want her sexy fling to be something to check off on a list to show that she was A-OK again.
“This isn’t Dr. Richards’s advice. This is advice from the girl who’s known you since sixth grade and wants to see you happy and healthy again.”
That took Georgia’s smile down a notch. “I know, Leesh. I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” she said, her voice sympathetic. “This is hard work, and I’m proud that you’re pushing yourself. Keep stepping outside those comfort zones, and we’ll get you into that courtroom. Then you can put all this shit behind you.”
Put it behind her. Like it’d just been a bad marriage or misguided career decision or something. That goal sounded like a pipe dream if ever there was one.
Some scars would never disappear no matter how much salve you put on them or how much time you let pass. But maybe she could learn to live with those marks on her. A life that didn’t involve hiding inside her house like some scared, helpless thing.
Of all the things, that was what she hated the most. The helplessness. Her sister wouldn’t even recognize her, looking down from wherever she was. If she were still here, she’d be giving Georgia a helluva talking-to for being such a coward.
Of course, if her sister were still here, Georgia wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. Her doctors had said the trauma of losing Raleigh and finding out the truth about how her friend Tyson had died had been what set off her breakdown. When she’d turned in evidence on Phillip to the cops, Georgia had already been dealing with the cold realization that the polished, successful man she’d dated was a sick, dangerous person.
When she’d broken up with him, it had taken only a week before the phone calls, letters, and drive-bys had started. First, it’d been the sweet, please-take-me-back approach. But when she’d ignored him, it’d turned ugly and violent quick. She’d protected herself, had taken precautions. But she hadn’t thought to consider her family. And Phillip had known what would devastate her more than anything. Raleigh, her baby sister, dead. Everything had fallen apart in Georgia’s world after that.
Chilled by the memory, Georgia wrapped up her conversation with Leesha and promised to check in later in the week. She had no doubt Leesha would end the call and immediately send the email update to the lawyer. What would it say?
Dear Mrs. Ramirez, Client left the house and screwed her neighbor. We are making great progress on her treatment plan and are confident she will be ready to testify in court when the time comes.
Georgia snorted to herself. Of course, Leesha wouldn’t give those exact details. Beyond confidentiality rules, she would protect Georgia’s privacy as a friend. But still, Georgia had the distinct feeling of being observed like a circus animal—everyone peering in and wondering if she’d be able to perform for the masses when it was time.
Her doorbell rang, startling her from her thoughts. She pushed back from her desk and headed to the front door, the familiar rush of adrenaline filling her as she crossed the bottom floor of her house. She hated that it was such a hair trigger. It was probably just a salesman or Bible pusher and already her body was going all fight-or-flight. But when she got to the door and peeked through the peephole, there was a familiar profile in view.
Nerves of a different sort crackled through her. She took a breath and unlocked the door. By the time she pulled it open, she’d mustered up some semblance of a casual smile—or at least she hoped it looked casual. She didn’t feel casual. “Hey, there.”
“Hey.” Keats tucked his hands in his back pockets and lifted his face to her. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Oh my God.” She stepped onto the porch, and her hand went to push his hair away from his blackened eye. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly. But his gaze flared when she ran a thumb along his swollen cheekbone.
She quickly lowered her hand, realizing the move had come across more intimate than she’d intended. “What happened?”
“Had a welcoming committee when I showed up at my place last night. Kind of a long story. The other guy looks worse than I do, at least.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’m a little banged up but nothing to freak out about.”
“I’m guessing Colby freaked out,” she said, resisting the urge to check him head to foot for injuries.
Keats smirked and glanced toward Colby’s place. “Understatement. I have a feeling if I hadn’t come home
with him last night, he would’ve tied me up and tossed me in the back of his truck.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t blame him. I would’ve done the same.”
Keats’s gaze hopped to hers at that, green eyes sparking. “Yeah? I might’ve enjoyed that. Next time, you come and get me instead.”