Dark Intentions - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,31

sit with my laptop on the couch while my mom sleeps in the other room.

I know that this is going to be fun. I deserve this. There's going to be days and days of waiting in a hospital room, and then just holding my breath to see whether the treatment works, and I need something good in my life to excite me.

In the beginning, the first time that I went to Redemption, it was a way to put my brother's death behind me, but now it's something different.

It's a way to celebrate. But it’s also about possibly seeing him again. I feel like a fool, but I need to know whether our connection was real. Not in the sense that I'm expecting it to go any further, but in the sense that I didn't just dream Dante up. I didn't just imagine this guy that swept me off my feet and showed me what real chemistry in the bedroom feels like.

Afternoon rain rolls in and I grab a blanket from the cubby in the corner and wrap myself in it. I love times like this when you have nowhere to go and nothing to do. The problem is that I've allowed the rain and all the mourning of my brother to throw me off course.

What do I do now if my mom recovers? No, when she recovers?

Where do I go?

What do I do?

I have to make some decisions about my life and I don’t know where to start.

I pull out my Kindle, find one of my favorite authors, and start to read. I haven't been able to focus on anything, let alone fiction for a long time, but now the words sweep me away.

Two hours later when Mom wakes up and wobbles into the living room, I look up and finish reading the last page of the book that I started before Michael's death.

"I actually read this whole thing," I tell her. "I tried so many times since before ..."

My words trail off. I don't want to say his name. I don't want to mention his death or funeral out loud, but she gets the point.

"And now that was the first time I got really engrossed and just lost myself in the story."

"Good," Mom says, walking over and kissing me on the top of my head. "That's what you want. Time heals all things." And suddenly I want to cry. "No, it doesn't mean that you're going to forget him," Mom says, shaking her head. "None of us will, but you have to live your life and you can't just be perpetually stuck in this loop of mourning and sadness."

"Yeah, I know," I mumble, swallowing back the lump in my throat that is just about to pull the tears all the way to the surface. "I'm just so happy you got this approval for the treatment, and we're going there on Monday."

"Yeah, me, too. Tell me. I know I asked you this before, but did you get yourself in trouble doing something like this?"

I shake my head no quickly.

"You can tell me."

"No, not at all. I didn't do anything. I have no idea who even gave the money."

"I'm not going to be mad at you," Mom says. "The thing is that after all that time and all those years with your father, I'm used to the deception. I know that just like him, you did it for a greater good. So was it Blackjack? Poker? Something else?”

"No, it was none of that."

"Okay, fine. Keep your secrets to yourself, but if I do get sicker and I'm on my death bed, I expect you to tell me the truth."

She's joking. This is her idea of a dark sense of humor.

"Come on, don't talk like that. The treatment's going to work."

"Let's hope so," Mom says, squeezing my cheek a little too tightly between her index finger and thumb.

"Listen, I'm going to go out tonight with Allison to a club. I'm meeting her at ten."

"Okay. I don't know how you can stay out so late, but have a good time. You deserve it. Celebrate for both of us."

I nod. "I will."

Later that evening after regretfully eating some macaroni and cheese and getting little bit too bloated as a result, I consider canceling the whole endeavor altogether.

My dress doesn't fit well. I feel like I'm retaining water, and suddenly I look like I'm twenty pounds heavier than I used to be, and I wasn't particularly thin to start with.

"I can't go.” I shake my