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Chapter 9
Samantha woke up andimmediately took inventory. Yes, she’d drunk last night. No, she didn’t think she’d had too much. No, she hadn’t been with anyone, so she couldn’t have done anything embarrassing.
Good.
Her awareness traveled over her body, checking for pain, checking for anything unexpected.
There was nothing. Just her.
When she remembered the blood, her eyes popped open, and she sat up quickly.
Her head swam, and she put a hand down to steady herself. Oh no, maybe shehaddrunk too much.
She took a long breath, which hurt. Had she really drunk again after that blood incident? She hadn’t even thought of that stupid blood when she’d pulled the wine out of the cupboard. How had she forgotten about mysterious blood so soon after finding it on her own skin? How had she forgotten to worry that something horrible had happened?
How had her thirst so efficiently drowned out her fear?
With a start, she realized that it was Sunday. Her eyes darted to the clock by her bed. She had to run. They always ran through the music before church. She threw back the covers, jumped up, and hurried to the bathroom—where she promptly threw up.
Good. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Throwing up would help. She hadn’t done it on purpose, didn’t like doing it, but it would help. She didn’t need to be up there in front of the whole church body playing the flute with a hangover.
She’d done that before, and it wasn’t fun.
She didn’t have time to shower, so she brushed her teeth, gargled mouthwash, and pulled her long, curly hair into a bun. She found some clean clothes and then texted Harry on her way out the door. “Sorry, running late. Be right there.”
When her feet finally hit the church parking lot, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her tin of breath mints—it was empty.
Oh no.
She knew there was no convenience store nearby, but she looked for one anyway, hoping one had just popped into existence in the last few minutes.
One had not. There were only trees, houses, and more trees.
She looked at the time. She did not have time to run a breath mint errand. She looked at the front door and then at the Greater Life sign above it. The giant heart on the sign seemed to mock her with its minty-green paint. Was she really going to go in there?
Without breath mints?
She started to pray for help, realized that was ridiculous, and stopped herself. She did not deserve God’s help. She had failed again. He’d gotten her to day three, and she’d thrown it way.
She didn’t even know how it had happened. How she’d given in.Whyshe’d given in. It wasn’t like something had happened to upset her or to tempt her. No, she’d just been her stupid old self.
Her stupid old alcoholic self.
She stood still, staring at that big green heart. She had two choices: text Harry, lie, and say she was sick; or go in and go through the motions, chancing that someone might smell wine on her breath.
