Page 75 of Fearless


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I leaped forward and caught her head before it made contact with the icy ground.

“Shit.” It was Mom.

“Drey. Help…me.”

“Mom.” I propped her up more. Her eyes were bloodshot, and despite the cold, perspiration coated her pale, sickly skin. “Shit.”

“I can’t…do it…” Her teeth chattered. “Alone…”

I couldn’t bring this shitstorm problem into Sarah’s home.

“Are you high?”

Her entire body shook. “Nothing…two daysss.” Her teeth chattered.

She was in seriously dangerous withdrawal then, quitting cold turkey like that. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Nowhere…to…go.”

Hello, detox!I’d taken her there only six times in the last two years. But I didn’t say anything. She was so out of it. Probably barely knew her own name. But how the hell did she find me?

“Okay, Mom. I’ll get you to detox.”

“Please…want to…be…good.”

The words I’d heard so many times bounced off my protective, defensive shell. I wanted to believe them, but I’d been burned so many times by them. “Okay, Mom. I want that, too.” A ping of hope bloomed, despite my efforts to punch it down.

“Drey!” Sarah’s voice entered the equation. “Oh my God!” She hustled down the two stairs to my side. “I…looked out the window, waiting for you. What—”

“Shit, Sarah. I…I have to take care of her. I’m…sorry.”

She pointed at Mom, who was now passed out. “Where’re we taking her?”

“We?”

“Hell yeah. I’ll run and get a blanket for her.” She disappeared through the doorway, and I fell that much harder and faster in love with her.

I sent up a silent prayer,Please let this be the time she stays clean.

It was unlikely, but for some reason, as if my unconscious mind knew something I didn’t, hope flared to life in my chest. It sure would be nice to have a family…

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sarah

“Ican’tbelieveit.Keep going! Keep going!” I yelled at Drey as he kept shooting the basketball. Almost every one of them was a swish. How the hell was he doing that?

Tickets poured out of the dispenser. Four guys with their girls crowded around, cheering.

Each time the ball rolled off his strong fingers, his forearm muscles bunched. His knees bent slightly and his quads pressed against the jeans he was wearing. Eyes laser focused and…intense. Concentrating. The bells and beeps of the game center bled into white noise.

Drey. A tower of strength. How he’d handled his mom last week…and visited her every single day like I’d heard him promise he would if she really meant to get sober. I was absolutely amazed.

During this tough time, he was out with me, showing me anotherrealdate. He reached for a ball, not even looking down. No, his eyes were trained on the basket.

He was in his groove.

He meant to win me that stuffed animal like he said. This past week he’d shown me what it was likedatingsomeone. Talking every night on text or chat. Watching movies on the couch and making out like two teenagers. At least that’s what he’d said. My teenage years…not so much.

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