Page 63 of Vital Signs

I didn't respond. Not yet. The moment I committed, I failed. Failed Misha. Failed myself. Failed whatever small chance at redemption I'd been fighting for over the last thirty-two hours.

Another wave of spasms hit, and curled on the floor, knees to my chest, sweat pooling beneath me as my muscles contracted and released against my will.

This had to stop. I needed relief. I needed to end this torment.

I forced myself upright, crawling into the driver's seat. Misha's keys were still clutched in my palm, the metal warm from my grip. My hands shook violently as I tried to insert the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, almost startling me with its noise after hours of just my ragged breathing and racing heartbeat.

I texted Trent back:

Coming now.

I didn't think about what I was doing. Just put the van in drive and pulled out of the Walmart parking lot, following muscle memory to the address I'd promised myself I'd never visit again.

Trent Ellis operated out of a perfectly ordinary split-level in a middle-class neighborhood on the edge of Athens. The kind of place where no one looked twice at visitors. The kind of place where the neighbors had "Live, Laugh, Love" signs in their kitchens and SUVs in their driveways.

I pulled Misha's van into Trent's driveway, not caring who saw it anymore. My legs nearly gave out as I stumbled up the neatly shoveled walkway. Each step took monumental effort, muscles cramping and releasing without rhythm or reason.

I rang the doorbell. The door opened. Trent stood there in khaki pants and a polo shirt, unremarkable except for the darkness behind his eyes.

"Hunter?" Trent's voice carried surprise. "Didn't think I'd see you again."

"Can I come in?" My voice sounded like someone had taken sandpaper to my vocal cords.

He checked the street before stepping aside. I staggered in, the sudden warmth overwhelming.

"Christ," Trent muttered, looking me over. "You look like walking death, nurse."

The title stung worse than it should have.

"Sit down before you fall down," he said, gesturing toward a leather couch. "You look like you're gonna code right here on my carpet."

I sank onto the couch, trying to control the violent shaking that had started again.

Trent's eyes moved over me, pity and fascination mingling in his expression. "What happened? Trying to kick?"

"Someone left," I said, hating how broken the words sounded. "They all leave eventually."

Trent's eyes widened slightly, then his mouth tightened at the corners. His shoulders dropped an inch as he nodded. He knew that truth too well. We'd talked about it once, back when I'd still been pretending I'd get sober someday. His girlfriend, my career, my parents' expectations. Everything good eventually walked out the door.

"Need what you've got," I managed between chattering teeth. "Jimmy's not around."

Trent snorted. "Jimmy charges twice what I do for the same shit. Russians have everyone convinced their product is special." He moved toward his home office just off the living room. "My supplier's just as good. Jimmy's just better at marketing."

"Don't care," I said, gripping the couch arm to stay upright. "Just need something. Anything."

I pulled the crumpled bills from my pocket, counting out what I had left. Forty-three dollars. Not even enough for a decent fix.

"All I got," I said, holding out the cash.

Trent looked at the money, then at me. "This ain't even half price, man."

I knew I was getting ripped off. "Please," I whispered, the word scraping my throat raw. "I'm fucking dying here."

He'd been where I was back when his girlfriend died. He knew what it was like when your soul was splitting away from your body, when existence became purely about making the pain stop.

"For the nurse who used to patch up junkies when no one else would," he said, taking the bills. "Lena always said you were the only ER nurse who treated her like a person."

The mention of his dead girlfriend hit like a punch. I'd held her hand once, during an overdose scare. Talked her down from panic while the Narcan kicked in. Before I'd become what she was.