Page 126

"Sam said you knew…" Confusion rattled her stoic expression and finally, her facade fell away.

My eyes widened and I said, "She told you what happened to her?"

Stella nodded. "The other night at dinner. When we were in the kitchen."

I nodded, my anxiety fading when I knew the truth of Stella's unrest. It made sense now, their long tenure away from the group of us, the crying I heard in the kitchen, plus Sam's recent quietness. "It makes me sad to think about it."

"Me too." Her shoulders relaxed and sadness dimmed the light in her eyes. "I never knew, Rosie. I just thought...I don't know. I thought her difficulties came from her job or the divorce. Not this." She paused to take a breath. "Knowing that happened to my friend. The things that happened to both of you. I don't know how you've gotten through life so successfully."

"You should talk, Stella. Seriously." I tucked my feet up on the sofa while facing her. "We all have our own stories."

"I know...it's just. I care about both of you and knowing you were hurt. Knowing Allie was hurt. Everyone. I just…" She drew in a deep breath again. "I think I'm vicariously traumatized by hearing about what happened to Sam."

"I think so too. Sam's story makes me sad and I know she was alone so much. The rest of us had support and people who loved us. Remember that difference. That's what my psychiatrist says anyway. We're trying to be those people for Sam."

Stella patted my knee as she swallowed down whatever emotions followed. "She's still learning to trust and settle down. She doesn't trust anyone. At all."

"Except you. She trusts you otherwise she wouldn't have moved here."

"I'm glad I can be a solid friend for her." Stella let out a soft sigh. "I better go to work and stop talking about this before she walks in."

"Okay." I held my hand to her and she accepted the gesture.

"Now you have the doctor face." She chuckled, nodding in my direction. "You're a strong woman, Rosie. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks. That means a lot." I squeezed her hand and she smiled a little.

"I'll stop in after my shift in the morning," she said as she stood.

"Okay." I watched her head to the door, knowing she would stick to her word. "See you later."

She waved a finger at me before grabbing her bag and heading out.

My mind continued to spiral around the disclosure. Why would Sam tell Stella what happened to her so randomly in the middle of a dinner party? I knew something was going on, but this was only the tip of it.

I stood from my spot on the sofa after ordering a round of takeout sushi, and picked up my overnight bag to tote to the bedroom. When I flicked on the light, yet another unusual sight greeted me. Sam's bed sat unmade, with her computer on and an open notebook on the floor. Laundry covered the floor near the hamper, and the edge of the bed. I frowned then, noting that this couldn't have been a one-night fluke, but perhaps the entire tenure of her work week. I set my bag down, and instead of obsessing over Sam's emotional status, I took a leap of judgment and tidied up her room.

With her laundry gathered in the basket, and some tossed in the washer, I returned to the bedroom to fix up the bed. I set the laptop on the nightstand and the screen lit up right away to reveal an internet browser with half a dozen tabs open. The news remained at the forefront, which I promptly ignored and closed the cover. I scooped up the notebook, and smiled at Sam's delicate handwriting that covered the pages. Unlike most doctors, her elegant scrawl belonged in history books penned by infamous scribes. I set the book down, cautious to not read anything, on top of the computer. I moved on to changing the sheets and making up the bed.

By the time eight in the evening rolled around, I'd cleaned nearly all of Sam's apartment, did the laundry, and set the delivered sushi in the fridge. After I cleaned that as well. I stood there, in the middle of her living room, with my hands on my hips when the realization that I'd overly channeled my anxiety into tidying someone else's house.

"Bugger," I muttered, and glanced to the dark windows with faint lights from the harbor flickering in. All I could do was hope it didn't piss her off.

With the last load of laundry in the dryer, and the rest folded in the basket on top of the washer, I returned to the sofa and decided to flick on a show. I checked my texts to see a message from Stella.

She's not here, she said.

Not at work? My brow furrowed, but the moment I sent it, I knew where she was.

Kylie said she left at six.

She probably went to go see her mother…

Yikes. Understood. I'll check in later.

Okay.

I let out a soft sigh, and waited for Sam with bated breath. I lost myself in the murder-mystery I chose and allowed the violence and police work to distract me from my worry. However, I never got to find out if they caught the killer because when the closing of the front door woke me up, the television scrolled the end credits of the movie.