Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
The rehab center is in Pennsylvania.
My decision to go out of state stemmed from my need to cut off the invisible cord running between me, my parents, and Lev.
I wanted to focus on getting better, not on expecting weekend visits with my loved ones.
Sometimes you have to live without people to remember how much they’re worth keeping in your life.
Though, I guess Lev could be crossed off the list of hypothetical visitors. He doesn’t even visit me from across the street.
Three days after I chose a rehab program, I’m sitting on the front porch of my house, surrounded by suitcases and duffel bags.
“You better come back clean, happy, and chill as fuck,” Daria warns somewhere above my head, shoving my pink headphones and favorite glittery socks into my carry-on bag and struggling with the zipper. “This thing cost Mom and Dad sixty grand. Are they handing out bachelor degrees at the end of it?”
“Dude, guilt trip much?” I tilt my head up to glare at her. But I’m not mad, not really.
She is right. Plus, she dropped everything to be with me for this entire duration since I OD’d.
“Much.” She tosses her Rapunzel hair to one shoulder. “You deserve to feel guilty—not ashamed. I had to take time off work. And stop a juice-cleansing stint.”
“I’m sure you and Penn can still pay the bills.” Her husband gets paid a gazillion dollars per season for the 49ers.
“It’s not about money. It’s about my responsibilities. Aspirations. My passion.”
“Are you talking about your job or the juice cleanse?” I frown.
“Both.” She laughs. “My hot-girl-shit routine is perfected down to an art, and I miss my students sooo much.”
Is she really that passionate about her role? I hadn’t realized. Possibly because I’ve always secretly believed Daria took this job out of necessity, to do something with her life.
“Do you really like what you do?” I can only imagine the type of pep talks my sister gives the youth of America. There’s tough love and then there’s whatever Daria Scully is giving people. Which is more like…BDSM affection.
“Love it.” A tender smile traces her lips, and her eyes soften. “You know, Bails, there’s life after the glitz and glamour of professional ballet and cheer. It’s really nice to do something quiet and rewarding. To work out because you want to, because it’s fun, and not because it’s your job.” This, I can believe. “I make more of a difference as a counselor than I did as cheer captain. My positive footprint on this world is greater. Don’t look at this as failure.” She shakes her head.
“We all fall. Those who get back up—they’re the real winners. And once you’ve been down, you learn to appreciate the ups so much more.”
Her eyes snap from mine to the mansion across the street. She arches an eyebrow and swivels toward the front door. “This is my cue to make myself scarce. Dad’ll start the car in about ten minutes, so that’s how much time you’ve got to say goodbye to lover boy.”
Daria disappears into the house. I stare ahead and watch Lev crossing the cul-de-sac from his house to mine.
He is wearing a black hoodie and low-hanging gray sweatpants. His sharp jaw tics when he sees me fenced by my suitcases and bags. He doesn’t smile when his forest-greens meet my ocean-blues.
My heart is in my throat. I know this is goodbye, at least for right now.
But what if it’s goodbye forever? What if too many things have happened for us to move on?
He jogs the few steps of the ivory marble leading to my door and stands in front of me.
“Is now a good time to talk?” Despite everything, his voice is sweet and familiar.
“No better time, since I’m leaving for rehab in…” I check my phone. “Nine minutes and twenty-three seconds.”
I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. I don’t blame him for wanting me gone after everything I’ve put him through. But it still rips me to shreds.
We both made so many mistakes ever since I came back, and I don’t know how to move on from all the bad memories that muddied up all of our good ones.
Lev takes a seat next to me. I don’t dare look at him. At his sharp, straight nose or delectably symmetrical lips.
There’s a mountain of unspoken words wedged between us.
Lev closes his eyes, swallows, letting those words collapse like rubble.
“Since the moment you overdosed, all I’ve been doing is trying to find the right words to say to you when you woke up. It took me all these days to realize there are no right words in our case, so instead of saying what’s right, I’m going to focus on saying what’s true.”
The truth is always a sucker punch. I hold my breath.
“I’d like to start by apologizing to you. This apology has been a long time coming. When my mom died, I looked for someone to replace her energy. You were the easiest choice. I put an unfair burden on you. Expectations no kid should be faced with. You were my everything—mother, sister, mentor, best friend, potential lover. You were the whore and the saint. The illness and the remedy. You made my favorite food, you slept in my bed, you prepared my backpack the night before school, and also starred in every fantasy I’ve ever had. There is something about you, Dove. You’re very dependable. So people just throw shit at you, thinking you’ll succeed.”