Beauty in the Ashes

“What about you, Caelan?” One of them asked.

“Huh?” I replied, feeling bad that I wasn’t paying attention.

“What made you start using?” The guy across from me repeated.

“Oh,” I looked down at the wooden table. “I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us. We know how hard it can be to talk about,” the woman beside me spoke. I thought her name was Bree.

“No, it’s okay,” I said, “it’s just hard to talk about.”

“Take your time. I’m Josh,” he added, as if he knew I’d forgotten their names.

After a moment of gathering myself, I answered, “I found my family murdered. I started using so I could forget what they looked like when I found them. In the process, I started to forget other things about them—the good things. It was hard once I lost them. I went off the deep end and people told me I was a screw up instead of getting me the help I needed. By the time they realized how bad off I was it was too late for them to force me into rehab.” I sighed, deciding to recant the whole story. “Then, this past summer, I met a woman and she changed everything. I wanted to be better for her. I didn’t use as often and I didn’t drink as much as I used to. She knew everything about me and she didn’t care. She still loved me. But she had struggles too,” I whispered. “When they caught up with her, she tried to end it. So, I followed suit. I tried to take my life so I could be with her. I realized how fucked up that was. She’d become another unhealthy addiction for me. So, I ended things and I agreed to come here,” I spread my arms wide. “And that’s my story.”

Silence greeted me and then they went back to talking about random non-sense. Like favorite foods, where they lived, that sort of thing. My life didn’t matter to them. Not in a bad way, but they didn’t pity me. They’d been through hardships too. We were all the same—equals. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel nice to belong.

CHAPTER 30

Sutton

I sent the letter and I waited. For what, I don’t know. An answer? A sign he still cared?

You know what I got?

The fucking letter was sent back to me, unopened.

I crinkled it in my fingers, but couldn’t make myself throw it away. Instead, I shoved it in one of my dresser drawers. I was mad. Really mad. Could he seriously dismiss me so easily that he couldn’t even read a letter I wrote him?

Apparently so.

“Hey, are you okay?” Memphis asked. He sat at the kitchen counter with his laptop. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and then pushed his glasses further up his nose. I hated to admit it, but he made those dorky thick-framed glasses look pretty damn hot.

“I’m fine,” I forced a smile and twisted my hair into a bun. A few strands escaped the confines and framed my face.

“And I know you well enough to know that’s a big fat lie.” He closed the lid of his laptop and stared me down.

He knew about the letter so I figured there was no point in lying. “The letter got sent back.”

He frowned, his eyes filling with compassion. His look made me squirm. He was the last person on the planet that should be concerned about me. He was always so nice to me and while he made it clear that he hoped for more with me, he never pushed.

“Please, don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.

“Like what?” He chuckled, picking up a pen and chewing on the end.

“Like my pain hurts you.” My voice was nothing more than a meek squeak. Since my suicide attempt and the break-up I’d felt more vulnerable. My tough girl façade had fallen away, revealing the damaged woman I was.

He frowned, a wrinkle marring his normally smooth forehead. “It does, though. That’s how it works when you care about someone.”

I bowed my head in embarrassment and didn’t address his comment.

“As for the letter being sent back, maybe he’s hurting and couldn’t bear to read what you’d written.”

I snorted at that. Caelan was not a romantic enough guy to have that sort of reaction.

“Or,” Memphis continued, ignoring my reaction to his previous statement, “maybe they don’t allow outside communication.”

I frowned at that. When Caelan told me not to call—which I tried to anyway because I’m an idiot—I remembered him saying that he didn’t think they’d let him talk to anyone on the outside. So, it was a possibility, but still…that didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially since I didn’t know if it was true or not.