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“How are you feeling?” True concern showed in his eyes.
I pondered his question. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“You’ve got to give me more than that.” He stretched his arm across the back of the couch and his fingers hovered dangerously close to the back of my neck.
“I’m glad I’m alive,” I whispered as I toyed with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I see now that I have so much to live for.” I looked at him out of my peripheral vision.
A small gasp escaped my lips when he reached up and took a strand of my hair between his fingers. He rubbed it leisurely and he seemed to be waiting for me to tell him to stop.
I didn’t.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” His voice was soft and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should admit that out loud.
“Why?” I forced the word past my parched lips.
He shrugged and looked away from me. A muscle in his jaw jumped. When his gaze connected with mine once more I saw a vulnerability there that I hadn’t been prepared for. “I care about you.”
To most people they were four simple words. But I wasn’t most people and they meant a hell of a lot to me.
I slid my body closer to Memphis’. He appeared skeptical as to what I was going to do. It shocked him completely when I burrowed my body against his. His arms wound around me as I laid my head against his chest.
I wanted to be held. There was nothing wrong with that, right?
No more than a minute had past until I croaked, “He ended things.”
I felt every muscle in his body stiffen from my admission. “Are you okay with that?”
What a stupid question.
“No,” I admitted. “I understand where he was coming from, but I…I love him.”
Memphis smoothed the hair off my forehead and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger so that I was forced to look at him. “You’ll love again.”
Was he right? Could I possibly ever love someone as much as I loved Caelan?
“I hope so,” was my reply.
CHAPTER 28
Caelan
I was in a fucking cell.
Okay, so it wasn’t a jail cell, but it might as well have been.
Three large steps were all it took for me to walk from one side of the room to the other. Was this part of rehab? Did they put you in the smallest room imaginable in the hopes of driving you insane? If the answer was yes, then it was working.
I sat down on the bed and it was so hard that it didn’t give an inch with my weight.
I really didn’t want to be here, but I knew it was the best thing for me. I was far too dependent on the drugs and alcohol, ultimately becoming that way with Sutton. Apparently I was addicted to everything.
I placed my head in my hands and my clawed at my hair.
I wanted out of here.
I was desperate to escape the stark clinical whiteness.
This wasn’t home.
