The images flood through me. My stomach knots up, and I feel sick. That was a fucked up night that I wish I never had to witness. I wish I could forget. I wish my head would stop messing with me. Give it up, man. Let it go. Just forget about it.

When I head inside, I go straight to my office. Sitting down at my desk, I pick up my desk phone and call downstairs to the bar.

“Blur,” I hear Mel answer.

“Mel, it’s Ryan. I just got here. Can you send Max up to my office?”

“Sure thing.”

Hanging up, I sit there, anxious for some reason, but need to talk, and Max is the only one who knows about that night.

“Hey, boss.”

I look up at Max as he walks in, and when he sees me sitting there, soaking wet, he questions, “You okay?”

“Do you think it’s possible . . . to connect two strangers . . . I mean . . .” I trail off, not able to get my thoughts together to form a coherent sentence.

He takes a seat and says, “What are you talking about?”

I breathe in a deep breath and let it out slowly when I tell him, “I went to grab a coffee before coming here, and the girl working there . . . well, when I saw her, my mind went straight to the girl from the alley. The girl who was attacked here a few months ago.”

“You think it’s the same person?”

Raking my hand through my wet hair, I fist a lock of it in frustration before saying, “I don’t know. I mean, I guess for a second I did, but really, the chances would be next to nothing, right?”

He doesn’t respond. I know I must sound crazy, but I continue anyway, “It’s probably not. That girl was unrecognizable. I don’t even know why my mind even took me there.”

“I think it makes sense.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. After it happened, it really bothered you that you didn’t ever know what happened to her. If she was even okay. So it makes sense that your mind would still need closure and that it would come out at random times trying to make that connection.” He takes a moment in thought, and then adds, “I dunno. Just my thought.”

“No, you’re right. I’m probably subconsciously trying to put an end to that situation. But that’s not gonna happen. I just need to let it go.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re gonna do nothing but drive yourself crazy,” he says.

“That chick probably thought I was crazy. I couldn’t stop staring at her, like some sick perv or something,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“She wouldn’t be too off base,” he throws back at me, and I laugh with him. “I gotta get back to the door. You gonna come down soon? Jase is here with Zane.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna try and dry off, and I’ll be down.”

He turns back before walking out of my office and says, “That girl, whoever she is, I’m sure she’s okay. It’s been almost three months since it happened.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” I reluctantly agree.

“Like you said, just let it go.”

I couldn’t let it go like Max told me, like I told myself even. I went back to Common Grounds a few days later. Back to the coffee shop and she was there. I just had to see her again. Had to get the confirmation that there wasn’t a connection. The only similarity I could see was that the two girls are petite. That’s all. No other connection. So now . . . now I let it go.

Before I hit the gym today, I need to stop by the bar to pick up a few files that I have to drop off to my accountant. It’s early in the morning, so when I get there, I’m surprised to see Mel’s car in the back lot. Walking in, it’s dark. None of the lights are on, and the sun hasn’t started to rise under the cloud-covered sky.

When I walk out from the back, I see Mel sitting on top of the bar with her legs crossed, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” I say softly as I approach her.

She looks up and that’s when I see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“He’s gone,” is her only response, and I know she means her husband.

Zane, back when he was her boyfriend, played gigs here every now and then. They would hang out here a lot, and when Mel needed a job, I brought her on.

I sit on one of the stools in front of her, and when she looks down at me, she explains, “They signed the deal, and he left.”

“Why aren’t you with him?”

As she lets her head fall, she says, “Because he didn’t want me to be.”

I clasp my hands together, not knowing what the hell is wrong with Zane. “I don’t understand.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes and sits up a little straighter. “He said he was tired of hearing me bitch about something he’d been working towards for years. He knew I didn’t want to move to L.A. My life is here. My whole family is here. I didn’t want to leave all that, but it was pissing him off. He feels like I’m not supporting him.”

“Do you support him?”

“I don’t know, Ry. Honestly, between you and me, even though I don’t want to be alone, I’m kinda glad for the break. We haven’t been on the same page for a while.” After she says this, she hops down behind the bar and walks over to refill her cup of coffee. “Want some?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She pours it black, like I always take it, and sets it in front of me as she stands on the opposite side of the bar top.

Taking a slow sip, I then ask, “So, why are you here?”

“I just had to get out of the house, and I knew nobody would be here. That is, until you decided to crash my pity party,” she jokes, laughing at herself. “What are you doing here at six a.m.?”

“I’m on my way to the Athletic Club. I needed to pick up some paperwork to drop off to my accountant later today.”

“You coming back?”

“Nah. I’m gonna take the day off.”

“That sucks,” she complains.

“Why?”

“‘Cause Michael is boring as hell, and he’s been in a shit-ass mood the past few days,” she tells me.

“You know why?”

“Not for sure, but I overheard him on his cell the other day.”

“Eavesdropping?”

She starts laughing, and says, “You know it! But anyway, from what I heard, I think . . . and don’t say shit about this, Ryan. Got it?” she warns.

“Yeah, whatever. Just say it.”

“I think his wife is having an affair.”

“That fuckin’ sucks.”

“I know. But you didn’t hear that from me, and I’m not saying it’s true. It’s just what I pieced together from what I heard,” she defends.

“Well, for his sake, let’s hope you’re full of shit and your eavesdropping skills suck.”

The ringing of my phone interrupts us. I look to see that it’s Gavin before I answer.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say.

“You at home?”

“No. I’m at the bar.”

“Even better. I wanted to drop off some tickets that I can’t use for a concert this Saturday.”

“Dude, I’m not in the mood to hit up another club.”

“No club, man. It’s a private concert over at Spines.”

“The book store?” I ask.

“Yeah. My boss gave me a few tickets, but I had another work thing come up, and I have to bail. You want ‘em? It’s for The xx. They’re in town for a couple days before their overseas tour,” he explains.

“Yeah, definitely, man,” I respond. That’s one band I’ve been dying to see, but never had the chance before now.

“Great. Don’t go anywhere. I’m about five minutes away.”

“Later,” I say before hanging up.

After Gavin dropped off the tickets the other day, I wound up running into Jase when I made it to the gym. We spent a couple hours lifting, and he took a few of the tickets off my hands, saying that he would go with Mark and bring along one of his friends, who I assume is the same person that Mark was telling me about a while back. We also made plans for the three of us to head down to Mount Rainier to go hiking next weekend.

After talking to my mom, I’m now running a bit late. I take a quick shower, fix my hair, and throw on my typical dark jeans, grey shirt, and black boots. I make my way downstairs and grab my jacket before I head out. The night is misty as I drive across town to Spines, a local book and music shop that has managed to stay open and alive while most of the others have closed.