especially when life felt so worthless with these addictions. Nothing filled him with more bitterness and fury. He’d do anything to forget what he used to have when it brought him so much pain.
Emily’s voice softened over him. “Sometimes I think you don’t want to live.”
Was it that obvious? This was far from the life he’d envisioned for himself—his songs had idealized a simple country life—the sweet wife, kids, dogs, maybe that cute little house with a white picket fence. His stomach tightened with despair. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d crash his Ferrari through that picket fence instead. “What can I say?” At least he’d tried to get that from his mouth, but his words got lost in his thick tongue somewhere. His ribs throbbed with pain. Clenching his fingers, he experimented with talking. “Nice to see you too, sis.” His voice sounded gruff but it had always been his instrument, and he coughed and worked through the words again to make his mouth do what he wanted—except the only thing he got out was what had been lingering in his mind for months: “We walk with death, sister.”
Silence. Her eyes got big. Regret wormed its way through him when he saw more concern shoot through Emily’s expression. Maybe that shouldn’t have been the first thing he’d said to her. How old was he? Fourteen? He tried to laugh it off and take her hand.
“No…” she said. “You don’t walk with death, not when you walk with God, you don’t.” He stilled. What was she saying? His sister should take over his songwriting. Poetry ran through her blood. “You walk with God,” she clarified, “you walk with life. Don’t you get it? No, you don’t because you’ve always been so strong, so capable, so charming. You never needed anyone else. That’s always been your biggest problem.”
He had no idea what she was saying, but if anything, she was sincere. “Okay,” he quickly agreed. Anything to shut her up.
“Don’t ‘okay’ me if you’re just trying to humor me,” she said. “You’ve never had to depend on anyone before this... and now, you need help. You need lots of help. You’ve hit rock bottom. Can’t you see that? I mean, River, was there ever any time during these past few years that you thought about praying to God for help?”
Not once. What good would it do? But he didn’t want to fight right now. He just wanted her to relax and be happy. He smiled at her. “How about you pray for me, sis?”
Her fingers tightened over him. “You’re not going to laugh your way through this anymore. You’re not going to try to cheer me up by lying to me that you’re going to stop. You’re not because… because you’re not fooling me, River, not when you’re trying to kill yourself! You lived this time, but what about the next accident? Or the next? Everything you are is… it’s not the same. And I’m not going to stick around and watch everyone cheer you on while you destroy everything that you’ve ever been. I can’t… because I love you and they don’t. You understand me, you big dummy? You’re tearing out my heart.”
She tried to stand and he quickly grabbed her hand. He didn’t want to lose her. He had nothing left that mattered. Her sobbing hurt him more than anything had in a long time. And still, anything was better than feeling numb. Was this what remorse felt like? It had been too long. He couldn’t even remember what joy felt like. “Emily, please. Don’t go.”
“You won’t let me help you. And this hurts too much.”
“Maybe this time… I’ll change.” Even as he said it, the words felt too familiar.
She gulped, her eyes brightening with more tears. “I found this place,” she whispered. “It’s called Tri-Star Recovery. It’s a drug rehab center.”
“Oh, buddy, you look bad.”
Emily stiffened and wiped at her eyes as West Slade strutted into the hospital room. River’s manager’s lazy glance ripped from him to his sister. River stiffened at the interest he saw in the man’s eyes. Really? Was nowhere off limits for him to pick up girls? Give it a rest, jerk.
“Nice to see you, Emily,” Slade grumbled.
Emily glared back. She made no secret that she blamed Slade for introducing River to the party scene. His manager had a knack for arranging “meetings” with just the right people with just the wrong habits. Once, River found that funny. Emily wasn’t laughing.