Chapter Forty
Michaela
After one of my recurring nightmares, I sat up.
Lincoln slept on his back none-the-wiser, snoring like a kitten with a tiny whistle on the exhale. I grabbed my old teddy bear off the nightstand and silently left the room.
Plenty of other beds to sleep in.
Or be tortured by memories.
Not all that late here, so a reasonable time of night in California. Continuing down to the living room, I sat in the dark and brought up the messaging app on my phone.
Hey.
Hey! Who was at the door? Moira asked.
Hey! Who was at the door?Are you with the boyfriend?
Tomorrow. I’m currently sitting in front of the TV eating last night’s leftovers.
Nice. It was Mr. Howell. Lawyerly stuff. Then Lincoln came back.
Why are you talking to me when you have a hot drummer?
He’s asleep
