Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,48

do you suggest?”

“You never said if you have someone.” He jiggled his foot. “You know… at the library or somebody that you see from town.”

I looked up sharply. “No, there’s no one.”

“So no one’s going to get mad if you just take off for five days?”

“Besides Suzanne? Nope.”

“Not even a friend with benefits or an occasional hookup?”

I smiled at the thought. “Galt’s a pretty small town. I dated all six gay guys who live there in high school.”

“Really?”

“No.” Just looking at him was distracting as fuck. His full upper lip had me biting mine.

He could not know.

He could never know how often I’d thought about kissing him lately.

“So… next Friday,” I reminded him, “I’ll come get you and your gear. I’ll text you sometime this week with my approximate ETA.”

“Okay.” He ran light fingers over his new bracelet. “Thanks for this. I love it so much.”

“You’re very welcome, Tug.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

I turned and waved goodbye to Dr. Franklin and Roberta. Even though Tug wouldn’t be at Hope House after Labor Day, I’d volunteered to continue helping in whatever capacity I could.

“Could you maybe make it early in the morning when you pick me up? I hate drawn-out goodbyes, and everyone will be in group after breakfast.”

“Sure. Or you could tear up your bed sheets to make a rope and climb out your window. Then you could escape without any kind of scene at all.”

“If escape was that easy,” he said, “don’t you think I’d have done it by now?”

With a start, I met his gaze. He was kidding—I knew he was kidding—but as with all jokes there was an element of truth there.

“Did you really think about leaving?”

He eyed me. “If I said yes?”

“Any addict worth keeping is probably going to have those kinds of thoughts. You know which ones to try and which ones to walk away from.”

“I learned.”

Yeah, he’d learned. And it was a hard-won thing for him. He was going to take all the knowledge he’d gained under Dr. Franklin and Roberta and carry it to a coastal town that featured everything Hope House had sheltered him from.

As if I’d skipped the meeting about rigorous honesty, I told myself I wasn’t worried at all. He was standing by the curb as I drove away, my heart beating double time in my throat.

Chapter Sixteen

Hope House, Day 95

I took my time walking around the farm last night. The hardest part was saying goodbye to Horace the hound. We’d really bonded while I was taking care of the chickens, and I’m going to miss him when I go.

Keylan, Terrance, and John have already left. I’ll be going in the morning. I guess on Saturday, Dr. Franklin is driving Lincoln up to Medford, where he’s from. Lincoln’s family doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but he feels like he’ll do better there than anywhere else. Maybe he’ll be able to rebuild some relationships.

I’ll wish him good luck at breakfast when I say goodbye to the others. Tonight, I want to spend time alone with my thoughts.

Luke is due at 7:00 tomorrow morning. He’s bringing his dad’s Tahoe, but I don’t actually have that much to take with me. His Prius would probably be fine.

When I think about the last three months here, the emotional scenes inside the house and the peaceful countryside and long stretches of silence outside, I don’t want to leave.

I’m terrified of everything, not just the bad stuff that could happen but the good things too.

I’m terrified of making new friends, of trying to get a job when I’m not qualified for anything. I’m terrified that if—in some perfect world—I actually get a job, the normies I work with will think nothing of having a few beers to unwind after work, and I’ll just harsh their buzz.

I’m terrified I’ll make bad decisions or stupid mistakes or throw everything I’ve learned away because it’s just so hard to hold the line sometimes.

We’re supposed to live one day at a time; one minute if that’s all we can do, but I can’t help thinking that it’s way easier to live in the now if the present is comfortable and familiar and the future isn’t a giant question mark written in blood.

The only thing that makes this bearable at all is that I’ll have Luke beside me when I leave here. At the same time, I can’t make a person into my new crutch. I have to stand on my own goddamn feet. I have