CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was weird to be in Lila’s Steakhouse again. It was an old hangout and the first place I'd gone with Buck where I was conscious of the stark contrast between the before and after Roxy.
Before jail and after jail.
Before meds and after meds.
The meds took the edge off.
My counselor warned me I’d regret the things I said and did while I was manic, and it was true. “Be gentle with yourself,” I could hear her say.
I could remember what it was like sitting at the bar with a cocktail in hand, wearing my red, slinky Bebe dress, acutely aware of every randy rancher and hot and bothered beer drinker who walked through the door.
The stuffed buffalo, gray fox, and Roosevelt elk still looked down from their places on the wall, ogling my antics with distaste. Their disdain was
