“No way in hell!”
Corrigan’s voice woke me the next morning. As I dragged myself out of bed, quickly dressing and brushing my teeth, I continued to hear his raised voice. There were others, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. When I got to the kitchen, Corrigan was standing against the wall. He was shaking his head, his jaw was clenched shut, and his arms were folded over his chest. He said again as I stopped in the doorway, “No. No way. I’m not leaving.”
“Who said you had to go?” I asked, combing my fingers through my hair. I’d thrown a shirt on and sweats, but I grimaced now as I looked down at what I was really wearing. The shirt was almost see-through so my bra was noticeable, and my pants stuck like glue to me. Then I stopped caring. I was hiding from the public. Who cares
