“Bring Your Own Sports Drink,” she translated. “And I know it’s not far. My dad was annoyed about losing half a day of work, though.”
After a short silence, Chris spoke in a dark voice that gave her the shivers for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely. “How annoyed?”
“No crockery was broken.” She tried to keep her tone light, even faintly amused. “He wasn’t here long.”
“He left?” Again with the growly voice. “Why’d he even come back if he wasn’t going to stay?”
“After talking to you, I think he was convinced that I was dying. Once he saw that I was fine, he headed back to Connor Springs.”
“Why doesn’t he stay at home and commute to the job site every day? It’s Connor Springs, not Alaska.”
The answer to his question was something Daisy tried very hard not to think about, so she decided it was time to redirect the conversation. “Chris, I’m fine. Try to reserve the emergency calls to Dad for when I’m dying and/or dead, okay?”
“You’re not fine,” Chris said flatly. “Ever since you saw Macavoy moving that junk, you’ve been sleeping even less than usual, haven’t you?”
“No.” It was a lie. “In fact, Dad woke me up when he got here.”
“After what? An hour of sleep? Maybe two? You can’t do that to your body, Dais. You’ll go nuts.”
In a flare of defensive irritation, she snapped, “What does it matter, since I’m already crazy?”
There was another silence, which was finally broken by Chris’s sigh. “No, you’re not.”
She rubbed her forehead with a hand that shook. “What do you call not being able to leave the house? I’m not exactly rational.” Although she didn’t mention it, it didn’t seem exactly stable to mentally turn a pile of junk into a dead body, either. Maybe she was getting worse.
Instead of countering her argument, Chris suggested, “Why don’t you think about starting therapy again?”
“That didn’t work out so well.”
“Tell Gabe he can’t sleep with the new one. In fact, you can just remove all hot shrink temptation altogether and do sessions via video on your laptop.”
The thought of talking about the worst day of her life with a stranger, of admitting all her illogical yet overwhelming fears, made her wince. “I’ll think about it,” she lied, just so he’d drop it.
“Really think about it.” Okay, so he wasn’t going to drop it. “Rob said he was concerned about you, about what would happen if you were ever in a situation where you had to leave the house, and I agree with him. Daisy, you passed out when you just looked at the open door. Going on as you’ve been living isn’t making you better.”
It wasn’t anything she didn’t know, but it still tore up her insides to hear him talk about it. She opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t sure what—but then closed it again. If she spoke, he’d be able to tell that she was crying.
“Daisy? Dais?” She’d been quiet too long, apparently. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I think you’re cheating yourself by not getting help. You’re—”
She couldn’t listen to him any longer. Moving the phone away from her ear, Daisy ended the call. She just held the phone in front of her for a while, watching as the screen went blank. When it rang in her fingers, she jumped and then turned off the cell and left it on the kitchen counter.
Swiping at her wet cheeks, she blew out a breath. After a few more inhales, the shakiness disappeared, and she was able to stop crying. She left the phone where it was and went to go beat up Max.
It was amazing how violence could make her feel so much better. After abusing Max, she spent some time practicing with the heavy bag and the speed bag, then hopped on the treadmill for forty minutes. Afterward, she felt sweaty, disgusting, and much calmer—even a little sheepish about the way she’d hung up on Chris.
Daisy showered and then retrieved her phone, her finger hesitating over the “on” button. With a sigh, she figured she should just get it over with, so she turned on the cell. Once it came back to life, she saw that she had a dozen messages. The single one from Lou stood out amongst the eleven left by Chris. Like the chicken she was, Daisy listened to Lou’s first.