CHAPTER 115

I wished more than anything that someone was sitting next to me. That that someone was Chloe. That we were laughing at Joey, drinking wine, eating nachos.

Instead I was doing all these things. But I was alone.

And it sucked. Big time.

I was in a hotel in the middle of the city I called home for twenty-two years, and I had no one here. By now, it would be common knowledge within my parents’ circle that I was fighting Martin on this abuse thing. That I was going against him.

Yet my so-called friends hadn’t once tried to contact me.

I changed my number, sure, but my Facebook didn’t change, neither did my Twitter, and neither did my email. I haven’t had a single message, which further proved to me that the people I had spent the last few years with are 100 percent superficial.

I placed a chili-and-guacamole-loaded nacho into my mouth and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

Where are you? I texted Chloe.

On the road to Philadelphia. How are you?

Desperate to know when you’ll get there so