Counting Stars Read Online Free Page A

could already feel their texture on his tongue and taste their bitter tang.
    His private heaven—and hell.
    He’d saved this bag for a year and a half—hadn’t even known he had it until a few months after rehab. And then one day there it was, his manna, stuffed in the toe of a pair of shoes he hadn’t worn in years. He’d told himself that he would save it. It would be his reward, his comfort to fall back on if things didn’t work out. Countless times he’d taken the bag out, looked at it, rubbed it between his palms. Once he’d even brought the plastic to his face, pressing it against his nostrils. But he had never opened it. He kept promises now—especially those he made to himself.
    So here he was this morning, having finally reached the designated day of his reward. And here was his comfort waiting for him because things hadn’t worked out. There would be no birthday lunch with Jane. But he deserved a present, didn’t he? No one else would be giving him one. But then, come to think of it, he couldn’t recall a birthday where he had received any gifts.
    Nothing had changed, and it wouldn’t do to feel sorry for himself now. He’d learned that was the first step on the path to self-destruction.
    Jay rubbed the baggie between his fingers one last time and then, with a flick of his wrist, watched as it sailed out into the bay. Withdrawing his wallet from his back pocket, he thumbed through it quickly, searching for the paper amid the bills.
    It was real. He stared at it—this ticketless travel voucher that was about to drastically alter the course of his life. The confirmation number stood out in bold, along with the flight number and times:

    American Airlines 1263
    Departure: SEA 1:05 p.m.
    Arrival: BOS 9:23 p.m.

    One way.
    Jay closed his wallet and turned, facing Seattle in the glory of the morning sun.
    Because of Jane, another day was his to live. And if that was all the reward he ever got, it was enough.

Chapter Two
    The Emerald Realty downtown office was quiet when, at exactly 12:00, Tara Mollagen opened her purse and took out a compact and lipstick. Squinting in the small mirror, she applied a fresh coat of Pink Pout and practiced doing just that as she slid her feet into silver pumps beneath her desk.
    Shoes in place, she left her chair and strode purposefully down the row of cubicles. Stopping at Jane’s nook, she poked her head inside.
    “You up for lunch today?”
    “Can’t,” Jane said without taking her eyes off the computer screen. She rolled the mouse, moving the cursor to the print icon. “I’ve got an appointment with the Sweviecs.”
    “You still haven’t found those poor people a house?” Tara drummed her polished nails on top of the divider.
    Jane rolled her eyes. “The only thing poor about them is their attitude. And I’ve found them thirty-seven houses.”
    “Ah,” Tara said, understanding. “Shown them everything between here and Canada, have you?”
    Jane nodded. “And then some.”
    “Well perhaps, as Zack would say, it’s ‘time to cut bait.’”
    Jane spun around in her chair. “And just how is Zack these days?” She looked Tara straight in the eye. “He cut your bait yet?”
    “Nooo,” Tara said slowly. “We had a fight last night, but—”
    “About?” Jane crossed her arms. “Spill it.”
    “My cat. He doesn’t like cats, and when I moved in I brought Taffy. Zack said it’d be okay, but now it’s not.” Tara sniffed loudly.
    “Come here,” Jane said, opening her arms as she stood. She gave Tara a hug, then reached behind her to retrieve the box of tissues from the desk.
    “Sorry,” Tara mumbled, blowing her nose. “I always blubber.”
    “It’s good to cry,” Jane assured her, making a mental note to buy more tissue. She’d just given her fourth and last box to Tara. Poor soul. This boyfriend had her up to a box a week. “Talk about cutting bait . . .”
    “I know, I know. I’ll have to get rid of the cat.”
    “Tara!” Jane said