Page 121 of Lucky 14

“Ky,” I say, leaning back to take in his whole face. He glances at me, then does a double-take.

“What’s wrong, mousey?” When I don’t answer, he pushes the bottle at me. “Want some?”

The guilt is eating at my stomach. If I want a relationship with Ky, I can’t lie to him. I can’t become Poppy. Relationships end when lies begin.

As he looks at me, I take the bottle. I can’t. I can’t. A relationship? What if that’s not even what he wants with me?

I take a swig of the alcohol, whiskey burning the back of my throat.

No. I have to do this. I hate living in uncertainty. Hate sneaking around to do the right thing. I’m not hiding after releasing the fox. Look how that ended for me last time.

“Ky,” I say, “I have something to tell you.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Day 9

Oakley is nervous, shifting all over my lap, and it makes me take another swig from the bottle. Did I do something while I blacked out? Something to hurt him?

The idea makes a fierce kind of anger roll out of my chest, and it startles me at first. I didn’t ask for this emotion. It’s like a fiery kind of possession. I didn’t pull it from my stack of carefully sorted ‘safe’ emotions. It’s not a go-to when I want to escape. This is something else. Something almost foreign…but as I sit with it, I realize it doesn’t feel wrong. Just different.

I’m losing more time. I sugar-coated it for Oakley, but I keep waking up in places I don’t remember going, and I can feel the demons in me so close to the surface. They’re saying things that make me want to drink more and more to drown their fear. They aren’t mean demons. Or, not all of them are. They’re mostly scared.

And fear is not one of my safe emotions.

“Ky…” Oakley is looking down at the space between us, and my stomach sinks. Oh my god, I did something.

You messed up! Fix it, fix it!

The feeling is so strong it nearly bows me over. By habit, I bring the bottle to my lips, then pause.

If drinking is causing the problems, I need to stop.

Oh fuck no. I can’t stop.

We have to.

My hand trembles there, halfway to my mouth.

“Holli thinks it’s not the drinking.”

That’s when I look at Oakley. Really look. What is he talking about?

“She’s a shrink, or whatever.” Oakley is biting his lip now, his plush, kissable lip, and it makes me want to both rip it out of his teeth so he doesn’t hurt himself and also bite him in punishment. I wonder if he’d even let me, since I clearly fucked up so badly.

“She thinks that…” Oakley shifts. “Have you ever heard of multiple personalities?”

Oakley actually looks at me, and I look back. What is he on about? Those eyes of his are tortured, like they usually are. Only this look is different from the one he gave me before he asked me to kiss him. That one was stunning, pleading, exquisite—one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. This one looks…guarded.

“Yeah?” I think I’ve seen a movie with it or something.

Oakley rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…”

His words hang. Is he trying to tell me that’s what he has?

Immediately, I know I don’t care. So what if Oakley’s crazy? He has to put up with me, so that works out.

Putting the bottle down, I grab his hand. “I don’t care what you have, mousey. Everyone is a little crazy.”