Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,36

I should.”

“See you.”

I turned back once more when I was opening the door of my car, but he’d gone inside. Through the window, I saw him moving the table and chairs into place.

Alone with the doctor, Tug seemed energized and open, laughing over something he said while they worked together.

The sight of them made me think of found family, and wellness, and all the things I’d wished for Tug when I’d left him here.

Like blowing out the candles on a birthday cake, I drove my car away from the warmth of Hope House and headed for the highway and home.

Chapter Thirteen

Hope House, Day 34

I don’t know why, but I expected a shitshow at family group, and for me, at least, it wasn’t too bad.

I thought given our time in the motel and the way Luke had looked at me when he’d dropped me off, he’d want to wash his hands of me. Not only did he come, but he seemed to want to leave the past in the past.

He seems to think I’m still worth something, even after I played him. Dr. Franklin said he’d figured it would come to that, but I was never as optimistic. Now, because things are going pretty well for me, I feel doubly insecure.

When I was a real little kid, I had these wooden architectural blocks my grandmother bought me secondhand—triangles, rectangles, squares, columns, and semicircles. I spent hours each day building towers with them

The best part of my day was showing them off to Bà nội but then—every time—the pride in her eyes collided with my secret unworthiness, and I bashed them over. I didn’t just topple my creations. I obliterated them.

She always made a joke about that, but looking back, I can see how sad it made her.

Despite my confusion, I always managed to make another little building the next day.

Now, I dream I make elaborate castles out of sand. When the tide washes them away, I feel the pain of their loss like a knife in my gut, knowing I’m the builder and the sand and the ocean all at once.

When I told Dr. Franklin about that, he rolled his eyes and flicked my forehead and put me in charge of our chickens—which are some fancy breed we keep in a coop enclosed in a wire mesh cage.

That also puts me in charge of Horace the hound, whose sacred duty is to let us know if anything bothers the chickens. Horace takes his mission seriously. I don’t know how to tell him that since the chickens are, in fact, in a wire mesh cage, predators can only come up to the perimeter and taunt them. I don’t have the heart to let Horace know because he’s always so proud when he chases the local cats away.

I’m going to send Luke a letter about chicken husbandry in care of his parents’ shop because… yeah. I now have a lot more to say about chickens than I ever thought I would, and I feel like I’ll jump out of my skin if I can’t tell somebody all about it.

Also, the five of us who have passed thirty days sober are going on a field trip to a nighttime screening of Up in the local park. We’re going to cook hot dogs, I guess. Keylan and John have families—wives and kids—who will meet us there. It’s supposed to be some kind of wholesome affair.

I don’t speak family, so I’ll stick out like one of my fancy chickens, but Dr. Franklin says I should go because baby steps or some shit.

Why does going back out into “polite society” feel like I’m a meteor hurtling toward earth? If the heat of reentry doesn’t incinerate me, I’m still sure to die from the crash.

Anyway, I planned to use Dr. Franklin as a buffer, but he won’t be going. He suggested I ask Luke. Right. Luke would do it too. He’s that guy—the one who will put his hand out before I even ask for help.

But hasn’t Luke done enough for me?

It sucks that he was in the library when I OD’d in the first place. That totally traumatized him. How many times should any one person have to scrape my ass off the road?

Luke is better than that, but I’m dreading this. As the date approaches, I feel like I might break down and ask him anyway. Maybe I’ll ask him in my chicken letter. Salutation, chicken facts, invitation to movie in the park, regards, sign it,