ADDICTED

51

JAMES

The ball slammed into the wall with a thud before bouncing back to me.

I brought the racquet forward and hit it sharply. My shot was equal parts power and precision.

My adversary fumbled to swipe it but missed.

We shook hands and left the indoor court with brief goodbyes.

As I wiped my damp neck with a gym towel, I checked my phone.

A flutter of adrenaline released inside me when I saw the message notification from Leah. I opened it right away.

LEAH: i'll be there Friday

Sighing, I leaned my head back and smiled.

After weeks of asking—nearly begging—her to come back, she relented at last.

I couldn't even be bothered that my request had been fulfilled for a work-related reason.

I wanted to believe she would come to the house and we would figure out how to deal with things.

—(—)—

"What if she doesn't come? I mean, can't say I'd blame her."

I looked up from my oatmeal to give Julia a steely glare. "Of course she'll come. She's reliable."

Julia wrinkled her nose at me. "We Mullers are walking disasters. She should know better than to come back."

"Your crippling self-esteem is depressing."

"Your face is depressing, so there you go."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't you have a pole to go dance on or something?"

"I'm not a pole dancer, dummy," she said with a large spoonful of sugary cereal.

After she chewed and swallowed the chokable bite, she adjusted the straps of her spindly shirt. If one could even call it that from all the skin it shows.

"I just deliver drinks to tables."

"I've seen your outfit," I muttered.

"When?" she demanded.

I gave her a flat look. "We share the laundry, in case you forgot."

"Oh, yeah. Well, the outfit is how I get good tips." She shrugged. "As long as my ass isn't up on the stage, I say that's a win."

I thought her new job was a terrible idea, but she had been less depressed and more purposeful than maybe her whole life.

She was making money on her own rather than relying on our parents, which was good. She needed to be independent of them.

I just hoped she kept a boundary between her work and her personal life.

"Right," I acquiesced. "Well, could you hurry out before the new advocates get here? I have to keep this house in somewhat of a professional order."

"I can be professional in my skimpy outfit. That was very sexist of you, James."

"I've never denied being sexist. I think I've been rather tolerant about all of this."

"My career is not of your concern anyway. You don't get to be tolerant or even have a say." She stuck her tongue out as she stood from the table. "But whatever, I'm outta here."

Once she left, I grabbed my cane and rose, carrying my bowl to the sink.

Occasionally a pang of pain would rip down my legs. The cane had, fortunately, grown on me.