Chapter 32

At first, I’m just too stunned to say anything. It’s like my brain’s stalling, processing, until finally, I blurt out the only thing I can manage: “Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?” There’s this unbearable, casual calm in her voice. “I made bail,” she says, like she’s talking about a nail appointment. “I’m bipolar and off my meds. They can’t hold me.” Oh, come on. I want to scream, but I swallow it down. “I don’t know what magic trick you pulled to get out, but don’t call this number again. I’m getting a restraining order.” “Sweetheart, you can do whatever you want. But for now, just listen to me. Please?” A request from her—a polite one at that—throws me for a second. Against my better judgment, I don’t hang up. My pulse is pounding. She takes my silence as permission. “I wanted to apologize, Julie,” she says. “For being… difficult. For pushing you. You know, I’ve got a condition.” It’s ridiculous. The laugh that escapes me is hard and hollow, almost a bark. “Oh, is that your excuse