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"Thanks." I look over at him and realize how grateful I am to have such a devoted best friend. "And thanks for not giving up on me."
He chuckles and puts his fist out for a bump. "Playground to the grave."
"Playground to the grave," I confirm.
"By the way," he starts, looking nervous. "Your dad called. He saw your room."
Great. "Well, at least dealing with his wrath will prepare me for the misery of wit
hdrawing."
His brows raise, and he glances over at me. "You're getting sober again?"
I nod. "We're going to need Zayn this time. I don't think Paige will be coming around to help."
The mood in the car darkens as soon as she's mentioned, and Carter sighs. "Do you think it's fixable?"
"I don't know," I tell him honestly. "But I'm sure as hell going to try."
I watch as the days pass by, but time feels like it's standing completely still. The world moves around me. It's like I'm doing everything I'm supposed to, but no part of me is actually living it.
Things are different.
Things are strange.
But still, life keeps going.
After I left Jace's that day, I spent the entire night in tears. My mom was worried. Becca was concerned. But no part of me was going to pretend I was okay. I wasn't. And even now, I'm not sure if I am. I did everything I thought I needed to do. Everything I thought he wanted me to do. But it wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Why wasn't I enough?
I walk through campus with Charlotte at my side, but all I want is to go home. As we're almost to the building, Carter turns the corner. My eyes meet his, and he smiles that warm friendly grin he's always had, but there's something behind it. Sadness. Sorrow. Regret. But he doesn't try to talk, and neither do I.
The cut is still too fresh, too new.
Like I said, I want to go home.
THEY SAY WHEN IT rains, it pours—because why wouldn't life kick you while you're already down? I used to think no part of that was true. That it was all a matter of coincidence. But as I pull into my driveway and see the doctor is here, I'm starting to think maybe I was wrong.
Last night, my dad had another episode, and it got so bad that my mom almost called the ambulance. Even the medication he was given to help stop the coughing didn't help.
I walk in and straight to the kitchen to get something to drink, but stop as I see my mom sitting at the island. She has her head cradled in her hands, and her shoulders move as she cries.
"Mom?"
Shaking herself out of it, she wipes her tears like I'm not supposed to notice. "Oh, hi, Paige. I didn't realize you were home."
My brows furrow. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she says, but it doesn't sound convincing.
I put my purse on the counter and wrap my arms around my mom. She doesn't need to tell me for me to know what's going on. My dad is getting worse. The doctors warned us it would happen. They said it's only a matter of time before he succumbs to his illness. That all we can do is be there for him and make the most of the time we have together. But while I'm losing a father, she's losing the love of her life. She's losing her other half.
My mom cries in my arms for the first time since this all began, and allows me to comfort her. I stand there as she does, emotionally as hard as stone—never breaking. Because I'm her rock, and rocks don't bend. They break. But when they break, there is no way to put them back together. They're forever damaged. She needs me to be strong.
When she finally lets go, she gives me a thankful smile. "I don't know what I did to deserve such an incredible daughter."
