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“Are you hydrated? Do they let you get enough sun?”
“I’m not a fucking houseplant,” he scoffs.
“Oh yeah? You try going without water or sunlight and see what happens.”
“Fair.”
I let my gaze land on him finally and look him over. He seems healthy. Alert. He’s not doped up like he was in the last place. His eyes seem brighter, too.
“You doing alright here?” I ask, praying that he genuinely is.
He looks back at me and meets my gaze. After a minute, he smiles, and it lights up his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. This happy. And it looks real.
“I am.”
A warmth spreads in my chest at his words. I hope it’s true. And I hope it lasts. This kid needs a fucking break already.
After discovering his involvement in the email hacking and destroying my guitar, I’ve learned a lot about Ethan. He’s not had an easy life, to put it mildly. As a matter of fact, his life thus far has been really fucked up, which makes some of his behavior understandable.
Some. But not all of it.
That’s where these behavioral treatment centers have come in. It feels like it’s been a shit ton of trial and error as things got figured out, but now we’ve found the right program, and everything seems to be clicking. His new meds seem to be working, too.
“And how’s therapy going? Do you like your new doctor?”
His expression sours a little, and he shrugs. “He’s okay, I guess.”
We both do not like talking about our problems. In that, we are very alike.
“Dude, you have to talk to the man,” I say, knowing how much he hates it.
The smile is now completely gone, and I start to worry that maybe I should have kept to the easy topics. I might have screwed something up going deeper.
“I talk to him. Geez. It’s just…”
“What?” My throat tightens. Please, not another setback.
“He wants me to write an apology to Penny.” Noticing my raised eyebrows, he continues. “Not to actually send it. Just to write it out.”
“Okay…that’s not so bad, right?” I can’t tell from his expression if this is a problem or not. He’s gone unreadable.
“No. It’s not bad at all.” He looks around the room, then back at me. “I just thought I should probably apologize to Sloane, too. Don’t you think?”
My breath eases out of me in relief. Out of everything this kid has gone through, for him to now be worried about who he should be apologizing to gives me so much hope for his future I’m nearly beside myself.
“I think she might like that, actually. Sure.” I almost tell him she’s out in the parking lot and I can get her, but I stop myself. Right now, it’s just a thought in his head. I’ll let him make it concrete when he’s ready.
After talking for another half hour about nothing and everything, I get up to leave. We bump fists as usual and make it as awkward as humanly possible.
We’re good like that.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says, laughing with me at how dumb we are.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Don’t be a dickhead.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say, backing through the door to the reception area, grinning while flipping him off with both hands.
