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"Yeah. I kept calling and showing up at her office. She wouldn't pay attention to me. And I needed… I guess I needed to face reality. But I thought that if only she'd talk to me, she could fix it. She used to fix everything. When we were kids."
"I get that. And the dissatisfaction."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Last few years of high school until I started doing ink. I felt like my life would never go anywhere. Like I was doomed to turn into my parents. I fucked around a lot. It was a good distraction, but it never really satisfied me."
"And now?"
"I love what I do. But I want more out of life too."
"Your friends?"
He nods.
"Your sister clean?"
"Yeah. That's the main thing now. Everything else—surfing, working out, reading—feels like a distraction. I love that shit. But it's not what I really want."
"And what do you really want?"
"To help the people I love." He looks up at me. "Find the people I love." He brushes my hair behind my ear. "What do you want?"
"I'm still not sure. Not beyond school."
"You'll get there."
I nod.
Right now, I believe him.
Right now, I believe it's possible there will be an us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Iris
The past is the past.
I let myself believe it.
I let myself fall harder.
All week, I text Walker about nothing. I go to his place for dinner and a movie and a fuck. I spend the night in his arms. I chain drink coffee. I pour myself into studying and perfecting my research.
It gnaws at my gut.
What if the past isn't the past?
How can he really promise that when he doesn't know what it is?
With the way he looks at his sister, is there really any chance he'll be okay loving a former addict?
I push it aside.
I hold onto his words like they're my lifeline.
They are.
