In the aftermath of her twin sister's tragic death, Reagan Sinclair finds herself in a never-ending battle against paralyzing panic attacks and drowning in grief. Desperate to just survive each day, Reagan's world is turned upside down when Paris un...
Paris: Hey, love. I'll be at the apartment a little later than usual today. There's leftover food in the freezer if you feel like eating.
Reagan: Okay. Is everything alright?
Paris: Yeah, I'm just visiting a friend.
Reagan: Okay, see you when you get back.
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"MORNING DOCKY," MAGGIE SAYS when I walk into the clinic. She hands me a cup of dark roast and goes about typing on her computer. I take a sip and lean against the reception desk.
"What does my day look like, Maggs?" She looks up at me, yellow glasses sliding down her pierced nose.
"Packed," she says before reading to me the first few patient charts of the day. "You have three physicals from the Cooper triplets. A couple of blood tests. Eight vaccinations and Miss Lisbet says that Kinsley keeps complaining about an ear pain. But your first session is with Mrs. Almer at eight. She's positive Lily has Fabry disease because of a nasty rash on her behind," I sigh into my coffee cup, Mrs. Almer is in here every other day, worried that her granddaughter has somehow contracted a rare disease.
"She's already here, isn't she,"
"You know it," Maggie says, opening a purple sucker and popping it in her mouth. The time on my watch says seven-thirty, but I down my coffee and tell her to send them up to my office anyway. If I'm working, I'll be too busy to think about Reagan, which is easier said than done because ever since I've met her, no one's been even worth thinking about. Every day I spend with her, I find myself becoming more and more addicted. Addicted to every little thing about her. The way she gets, so laser-focused on something she doesn't hear me when I'm talking to her, and then the next moment she's so distracted she can hardly finish a sentence. I adore the way she becomes completely lost in one of her paintings, she can sit on the balcony for hours on end. There's something about her being in her element that always sets my heart racing. The way she paces across the bathroom floor when she's brushing her teeth because it's too boring otherwise. The way she leaves pieces of her existence everywhere- a notebook in the kitchen, a shoe in the living room, a stray sock in the hallway, paintbrushes in the bathroom sink - and I find myself loving every bit of it. I love discovering pieces of her throughout the apartment
She's inherently sweet and she allows me to take care of her like I need but she has a backbone too and she lets me know it. I try not to compare her to Loren but the differences between them are undeniable. What Loren wanted, needed, was a Sadist- and hurting someone for my pleasure was never something I enjoyed, well, at least not to the extent that Loren craved it. It didn't stop her from trying to turn me into her perfect Sadist and participating in those countless scenes with her did a number on my head. I don't think it was a shock to either of us or any of our friends when our relationship ended the way it did. I like to think I loved her, but I wasn't what she needed, and she wasn't what I needed. We weren't right for each other, but I can't shake the feeling that Reagan and I would be perfectly suited.
