The following night.
9 p.m.
Hadley had just tucked Joy in and returned to her own room, ready to straighten up a bit before calling it a night.
Eric still wasn’t home. These days, his visits to the hospital had become routine—mornings in, nights out.
She no longer asked. No longer cared.
Just as she reached for her robe, her phone buzzed. It was Elissa.
“Hadley, are you free? I could really use a drink.”
Hadley didn’t hesitate. “Say no more. Where should we meet?”
She could use the distraction herself. The weight of the past few days pressed heavy, and drowning it in a glass or two sounded like welcome relief.
They agreed on a cozy bar in Willow Grove. By the time Hadley arrived, Elissa was already at a corner table with drinks lined up.
“Take a seat,” Elissa said, sliding a glass toward her. “Let’s drink until none of it matters.”
Hadley lifted her glass. “Deal.”
As the two women clinked glasses, the chime rang soft and fleeting.
Tamara discreetly tapped out a message to Eric. “Mr. Scott, Miss…”
“Pearson is out drinking.”
She attached a photo of Hadley at the bar along with the location.
Eric sent a reply immediately. “Got it. I’ll head over once I’m done here.”
Back at the table, Elissa was already a little unsteady, swaying slightly as she hugged her bottle.
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“You know…” she mumbled, her words soft and slurred. “If Linda hadn’t messed things up that night… do you think… do you think I could’ve been happy?” Get full chapters from find·novel·net
Hadley didn’t miss a beat. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I do.”
Hadley’s tolerance was lower than Elissa’s, and though she hadn’t drunk nearly as much, the alcohol was already clouding her senses. Her limbs felt light, and her thoughts hazy.
“If only she hadn’t made that mistake that night… maybe I never would’ve ended up in Blathe,” she murmured, her voice tinged with melancholy.
The two women exchanged a look—equal parts sorrow and laughter—tears glinting in their eyes as mixed emotions settled between them. Just then, Elissa’s phone rang. She fumbled to answer it, her fingers clumsy and slow.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was unfamiliar. “Is this Ms. Elissa Holland?”
“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”
“This is City Hospital. Are you a relative of Robin Torres?”
Elissa blinked hard, sobering slightly. “I—yes. I am. Why? What happened?”
“He attempted suicide. Slit his wrists. He’s in the emergency room now.”
.
.
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