“GO,” I snap, just wanting her gone. She doesn’t say another word. I’m not sure how much longer she stands there, but I know the minute she walks away because she takes my heart with her.
8 years later
“ARE YOU SURE THIS is a good
idea?”
My hands freeze on the box in front of me. How the heck am I supposed to answer that? Sitting back on my calves, I blow a chunk of hair out my eyes. Mia is watching me, her eyes flitting nervously to the box in front of her.
“No”—I hang my head—“I’m fairly certain that this is probably the worst idea ever.” With shaky hands, I close the box and secure it with a piece of tape. I take a deep breath, holding the air in my lungs for a few seconds before blowing it out, thankful that I’m still here . . . still breathing. It’s hard sometimes, to not let my mind wander in the direction that it typically likes to roam. But I have to try. If I don’t, then the negative thoughts will consume me. And I can’t let them consume me because I have one goal . . . well, two really.
First, I need to survive. I don’t care what I have to do or how hard I have to fight, I have to survive. Because goal number two is the biggie.
I need him. I need him in my life, however I can have him. I need his forgiveness more than I need my next breath, but I have to keep breathing to earn it.
So, there it is. As much as this is probably a horrible move, there is no other option because without him, my life will not be complete.
I can practically hear Mia’s eyes begging me to look up, so I do. Tears are pooled in her beautiful baby blues and when her chin quivers, something inside of me shatters. The façade that I’ve had firmly in place falls, leaving me naked and vulnerable—a place I’m all too familiar with these days. “I don’t have a choice, Mia.” My voice cracks, and in the blink of an eye she flies across the room. Her body collides with mine, our arms wrapping around each other as we hold on for dear life.
“I know,” she cries. “I just hate this. It’s not fair.” Burying my face into her hair, I inhale the scent of the one person who has kept me sane over the past several months.
Mia has been a godsend, perfect in every way possible. She has gone above and beyond in her friendship duties and I’m certain I’ll never be able to repay her, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying . . . however long that may be. “Life isn’t fair. I’ve learned that the hard way.” She nods, wiping away her tears. “This is the last leg of my journey and then I can live my life for me.”
She squeezes me once and then pulls away, cupping my tear-streaked face in her hands. Her own tears are once again cascading down her flushed cheeks and she sniffs several times before speaking. “If there is anyone in this world—anyone”—she tugs me a little closer—“who deserves to be happy, it’s you, Lane.” Her voice is scratchy and raw, and I know that she means each and every word. “Okay.” Straightening her back, she dries her face with the sleeve of her shirt then levels me with a wobbly smile. “Enough of the blubbering. Let’s get you home.”
And this is why I love her. Mia knows when I need to be held, and even better, she knows when to let go.
Twenty-two boxes, five hours and one sexy tatted moving guy later, we are on the road, leaving Napa Valley and its beautifulness behind us. All of my belongings have been stuffed and stacked into a big orange truck, and with any luck, everything will arrive in one piece. As for Mia and me, that’s questionable. Two thousand miles is a long journey, and I hope and pray that this heap of shit I call a car will make it without breaking down. The last thing we need is to get stranded, or worse yet have to spend money to fix up this hunk of junk—money that I most certainly do not have.
Lucky for me, Mia has the kind of job that allows her to make her own schedule, and by that I mean she works for her dad and pretty much told him when she was leaving and when she would be back. Mia is a trust-fund baby through and through, and although her parents can be rude and stuffy, Mia is the exact opposite. You’d never know that she is the daughter of one of the most influential men in the music industry.
Mia’s dad offered for us to use his private jet, but it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. I attribute it to Ivy, my bitch of a car. I get that he wants his daughter to arrive safely and in style, and he’s concerned that my fifteen-year-old Chevy won’t make it. But there was no way I was leaving her behind. As much as Ivy has a mind of her own, she’s still mine, and she’s the most valuable possession I have left to sell, should I need the money.
So here we are, making the one-and-a-half day trip back to St. Louis, where Mia has vowed to help me find a place to stay and get settled in before flying back home. I probably should have told her that I’ve already found a house, but at this point, the less she knows, the better.
Mia turns the radio down and I flash her a small smile before turning my eyes back to the road. She shifts, and when I glance back to her she’s turned toward me, head leaning against the seat. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she is worrying again. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that I’m fine and that I will be fine, she still worries. “What is it, Mia? I know that look.” With my eyes trained on the road, I hear her huff out a short breath.
“How much do you have?” Great. This is exactly the sort of thing I don’t want to talk about right now.
“It’s none of your business.” Mia punches me lightly in the arm and I laugh, grateful that I’m at least able to keep the conversation somewhat lighthearted. My eyes flit from her to the road several times. I know Mia, and there is no way she’ll let me leave this car without getting what she wants so I finally give in. “Fifty grand.”
“What?” she gasps. I use driving as my reason to not look her in the eye, because I know exactly what I’ll see. It’s not enough. It isn’t enough to pay what I owe, to start over, or to get what I need. “Pull the fuck over.” My stomach rolls with a wave of nausea, emotion slowly creeps its way up my throat and tears begin to build behind my eyes. I’ve been fooling myself to think that this will ever work long-term. I mean, seriously . . . who am I kidding? There is no way I’m going to make it. Tears start dripping down my face and neither one of us says a word. Signaling right, I slowly pull off to the shoulder of the interstate and an 18-wheeler whizzes by, violently rocking Ivy.
“How in the hell did you get fifty grand?”
“It’s not enough,” I mumble.
“That’s not what has me concerned,” she scoffs.
I should be slightly relieved that Mia isn’t insinuating I haven’t saved enough, but now I’m worried about her reaction to how I’ve been able to save that much in the first place. Finally building up the nerve, I look over at her. Her wide eyes are looking straight at me and I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head. Mia knows how much I made, and I know her well enough to know that she’s working furiously to try and calculate how I was able to live and still save fifty grand.
Turning in my seat, I tuck a leg under my butt. “I’ve worked hard, Mia.” Her eyes soften. “You know how much overtime I had been working prior to my surgery, and you know I don’t spend any money unless I have to.”
She laughs humorlessly. “Oh trust me, I know,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I know you’ve saved and I know you’ve skimped on things, but knowing you were able to save that much makes me feel like I’ve been naïve about just how much you’ve been skimping.” California is damn expensive, and when Mia and I first met, yes, I was skimping on everything from water to food to electricity, just to make ends meet. But when I got sick, I promised her that I would start taking better care of myself.
“Can we please not have this convers—?”
“No!” she interrupts, slapping a hand on her leg. “We’re going to have this conversation. Damn it, Laney!” Her jaw clenches tight and she looks away, running her fingers through her long blond hair before burying her face in her hands. I watch in shock as her tiny shoulders start bobbing up and down. It’s sort of ironic that I’m the one that needs to comfort her. I gently rub a hand down her back and she jerks away, a light sob falling from her mouth.