Page 130 of Before You Fell

“You usually deserved to be.”

“I’m shocked you noticed.”

“I notice more than you think, Wills.” The words leave before I can decide whether they are too honest, so I cover them with the only thing I have ever trusted. “Usually about six months too fucking late, but still.”

She goes quiet again.

“How are you really doing?” I ask.

“I told you. I’m getting there.”

“That is rehab-approved bullshit.”

“Phoenix.”

“I called your dad.”

That gets her attention. “You called Dad?”

“Yeah. Apparently, I enjoy being spoken to as if I were something he found stuck to his shoe.”

“What did he say?”

“That you’re eating. Resting. Attending the sessions.” I swallow. “Writing again.”

“He told you that?”

“He made me suffer first, but yeah, he told me that.”

A recorded voice cuts in before she can answer. “You have two minutes remaining.”

I sit up straighter. “What the fuck was that?”

“Phone time,” Willow says. “This is my first call I’ve been allowed to make.”

Her first call and she fucking called me. The thought hits so hard that I forget how to breathe for a second. Out of everyone she could have chosen, after everything I did, my name was still the one she called.

Her silence shifts. I’m familiar with that change. I’m more familiar with Willow’s reserved nature better than I know myself. There is a nervous edge to it now, like she is holding something back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Her breath catches and I hate the distance between us and the fact that I can’t see her face.

“I have something to ask you,” she says.

My pulse kicks hard. “Go for it.”

She doesn’t. At least not right away.

I wait, which has never been one of my stronger skills. Patience and I have a complicated history, mostly because I usually fuck off before it has a chance to teach me anything.

“Phoenix, when I leave here,” she says slowly, “my counselor thinks I need support for the first few weeks. Not someone hovering over me like I’m made of glass, but someone to be there. Just while I get used to being back in the real world.”

My hand tightens around the phone.