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All cried out and trying to find a way to leave without admitting I cried, I jump when there’s a knock on the door. It’s weird to say, “Come in,” because it’s weird to think I have permission to say this as if I live here, but I guess I do live here now and it’s time to own it.
Rachel pokes her head in and she reminds me a bit of her mom with the hesitant grin. How many times has Mrs. Young stuck her head into Rachel’s room to gauge what the two of us were doing behind closed doors?
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks.
A glance in the oversize mirror over the dresser confirms the answer is no. My eyes are red and swollen and it’s even stranger that I don’t care that Rachel knows I have the ability to cry. She already saw it once, at Grams’s funeral.
I wave the stuffed bunny at her. “I found these and...” Just and.
Rachel enters and closes the door behind her. “You can thank West for that. The moment we walked in your room and saw those, he was a madman putting them in boxes.”
My friends packed the house for me before Grams died. Sold most everything so we would have money to put her in a decent nursing home and kept only a few things of Grams’s for me. It’s strange I never thought about my room. After I was arrested, that all seemed lost.
I move over on the bed, a nonverbal cue for Rachel to join me and she does. She picks up a pink sheep and messes with the ears. “Are you okay living here? I was so excited to think of you being here with me that I never thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to be here.”
“I want to,” I rush out. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want to live here? And I’m here with you and Ethan. West and Isaiah will be around a ton and you have food. I’m freaking Orphan Annie and I love it here.”
Rachel watches me as she waits for the “but” to my statement and it’s an intense stare.
I suck in a breath and say, “But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Messing it up. What if I try and I fail? What if I go down this legit route and find out I suck at it?” What if all I am good at is being a drug dealer?
“We all suck at it, Abby. We just lean a little bit more on each other on the bad days and laugh together on the good ones. Today—I hope—is a good day.”
My heart beats hard at the thought of failing, but then lifts at the idea of having people who will catch me on the days I fall. I will fall and they will catch me. I have faith in that.
Logan was right, faith is believing in what you can’t always see and I don’t have to be constantly looking at the people in this house to know I’m in good hands. “Today is definitely a good day.”
A rattle of a cage and my head whips to the other side of the room. Adrenaline races through my veins and I shoot off the bed. “You brought my bunny here?”
“Logan did,” Rachel says I lift the massive fur ball into my arms. “This morning. He wanted Thumper to be here to greet you.”
Another knock on the door, and in slips Mrs. Young. “You have many nice-looking young men wondering where you two are at.”
I clear my throat and stroke Thumper. “Thank you for this. For all of this.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Young says. “I went ahead and bought you a few new things and then I thought we could go shopping for more next week. You, me and Rachel. It will be fun.”
I can’t help but smile when Rachel groans.
“That sounds great.” Because even though that sounds like hell for Rachel, shopping with my best friend and her mom really might be fun. Malls—I think I can do malls, without being there to complete a deal.
Rachel pets Thumper, winks at me, and then leaves. Mrs. Young opens the door the rest of the way. “Are you ready to put your past behind you?”
Forget my past? No. I’m grateful to my father, to my Grams. They loved me when nobody else would. Am I ready to begin something new? “Definitely.”
Logan
“That’s just sick, Abby.” In a portion of the finished basement of the Youngs’ house, West kicks Abby’s foot as he passes her then drops into the recliner in front of the large flat-screen television. He tosses an Xbox controller to Noah then turns on the console. “You’re defying the natural order of things.”
On the couch beside me, Abby eats her third plate of food. She had the first two during dinner and she just warmed up this plate a few minutes ago. West is referring to Abby mixing her mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes. It’s odd, but it’s Abby.
“Don’t remember asking for you opinion, Young,” she says.
