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“I think you need help, Hadley,”Devon said softly, feeling like a hypocrite.
“I think you don’t knoweverything about what I’m going through. All I’m saying now,” Hadley said,taking a step toward the door, “is that I’m tired of tiptoeing through mylife. I’ll come and go as I please. I’ll be at the apartment and Jenn’s. Brennan has a gig coming up soon, and I’ll be at that, too. I’m sure you’ll bethere, and I’m tired of it being awkward. Let’s just go from there. We’ll letthe trust rebuild naturally.”
“Hadley, please,” Devon said,desperate to reach her friend. “I am sorry about what happened.” She choked onher words, wishing that it could all go back to the way it was.
“It’s too late,” Hadley said,reaching for the door. “The damage is already done,” she muttered beforeexiting.
Devon stared at the closed door. She was beyond frustrated. Was this what it was like for people to dealwith her? No. Nobody knew what her problem was. Maybe that made it evenmore frustrating. She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.
All she knew was that Hadley wasusing, and likely, she was using more than she was before. She was irritableand uncompromising. Devon wasn’t sure how she could reach her, but she wouldtry however Hadley let her.
IT WAS WELL past closing time. Jennhad been complaining about their work, and Devon was tired of hearing aboutit. So, she took extra care in cleaning the restaurant. Each table was sprayeddown and scrubbed clean. Then, she moved on to the chairs and booths. Shemopped the floors and cleared away any excess dust from behind the bar. Brennanhad soaked down the bar, so she didn’t have to touch his area.
Moving out of the main diningroom to the kitchen, she set to work on washing the piles of plates, cups, andsilverware in the sink. After putting them back where they belonged, she moppedthe floor in the back and then cleaned the countertops of any additionalresidue. The kitchen staff was pretty good at wiping down the counters, butDevon put extra effort into it anyway. She rearranged the cleaning supplies inthe closet, and then she closed the door with a satisfied grunt.
Jenn wouldn’t have anycomplaints in the morning, at least not about the cleanliness of therestaurant. Devon had made sure of that.
Locking up, Devon turned aroundand began walking toward the nearby L station. Even late at night, she wasgetting accustomed to the walk. Brennan typically waited and walked with her.He had some intuitive knowledge that she didn’t like to walk in the streets atnight by herself, but then again, he didn’t think it was safe for her to behere by herself. He was probably right. She wasn’t sure what he was doingtonight. She wished he had stayed.
Taking the first right, sheheaded down the dark street, holding her purse close to her side. It would bejust her luck if someone mugged her on her way home. She should have askedBrennan to stay. That would have been smart.
She walked for a while, herparanoia getting the better of her. She knew that Chicago wasn’t all thatsafe, but the area near Jenn’s was pretty nice. Plus, it was less than aten-minute walk to the L station. She knew cleaning had taken her longer thannormal, but she hadn’t realized how much more deserted that would make thestreets.
She didn’t like it. The feelingwas unnerving. She increased her pace in an effort to reach the train quickly,so she could get back to the apartment. There was no reason to be out on thestreets longer than necessary.
The faster she walked, the slowerit seemed like she was moving. The buildings seemed to stretch farther andfarther down the street until she wasn’t making any progress at all. Shechecked over her shoulder to see if she was just imagining things, but thebuildings in front and behind her were unbelievably long…impossibly long.
Her stomach twisted, and goosebumps broke out on her skin as fear prickled her body. She could feel itthen. Eyes were watching her, following her every movement. She didn’t seeanyone, but she knew they were there.
Taking a deep breath, Devon triedto rationalize what was happening. She had hyperventilated before oversomething like this. Perhaps she was just imagining what was ahead and behindher. Her mind was playing tricks on her. But she had been walking aninterminable amount of time, and it didn’t look like she was any closer to theL. Wasn’t she supposed to take a left up ahead? She definitely hadn’tcome upon a cross street yet.
Devon broke into a jog, hoping toput as much distance between her and the strange city buildings as possible. The faster she went, the farther the buildings stretched. Her mind couldn’tprocess it. How was it possible that she wasn’t even moving when herbreathing was ragged from running?
Finally, she saw her turn upahead. She took off toward it, ignoring the nagging feeling that someone wasfollowing her. Devon cut the sharp corner and saw the L station up ahead inthe distance. A stitch was forming in her side under her ribs, and she pushedher fingers up into it to try to dull the pain. She wasn’t a runner and neverhad been. Devon wondered why her pursuer didn’t just run her down. She wasn’tvery fast, her speed was already slowing considerably, and soon, she would haveto stop. Adrenaline was the only thing fueling her on.
But the person stayed a distanceaway, her pursuer’s eyes locked on Devon.
She reached the stairs in a hurryand scrambled up them, wanting to put as much distance between her and theperson after her as possible. She swiped her card, pushed through the metalturnstile, and stepped out onto the platform. She flew up the second set ofstairs and prayed that a train was waiting for her.
The footsteps on the stairs belowher told Devon that the person was fast approaching. She knew the trainschedule, and it would likely be another couple minutes before it arrived thislate at night. She paced
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