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“I’m healthy.”
Tears fill her eyes as she nods. All she ever did was take care of me. All we ever did was sacrifice for the other until nothing was left of us.
She softly stammers, “Have a Happy New Year.”
She’s not being a smart-ass, and she doesn’t mean the eve. She means the rest of my life. She’s letting me go…
Is that what I want? To be free of her, too?
I swallow glass. “You too, Candy Cade.”
No, it’s what I need.
A tear escapes over her dark lashes before she turns away, and I walk up the stairs and have no idea what kind of life I’m stepping into.
But it can’t be with her.
Not if I want to stay sober. Not if I want to stay alive.
CHAPTER SIX
Good Stuff by Griff
I need to be bitter.
I need to seethe.
I need to move on, and I can’t because I’ll never hate him.
All I remember is every reason I love him. The bike rides. The beach days. The ice cream kisses. The stupid onions. Our burnt pizzas and naps on the sofa. Our hot sex and his cute jokes and sweet gifts.
Redix was brutal. He kicked me out of the house he bought for us. I threw my suitcase in the car he bought me too, and I drove back to my place crying and didn’t stop for days. Sometimes, I still can’t stop.
Because he almost died in my arms.
And I can’t make myself feel anything but the good stuff.
That’s why I did it. I had to free him even if I had to lose him to do it.
It’s only fair.
He’s healthy now. I gently push through the crowd, and that’s all that matters. Redix will live. He won’t slowly kill himself anymore. So it’s okay if I’m dying inside. I swapped our places, and I owed him that much.
“Hey.” A hand gently pulls my arm. “Hey, you okay?”
My teary eyes lift to Silas. And I only fight back more tears.
Why can’t I love him the way he deserves? Like I do Redix? I do feel something for Silas. I cherish him. He’s more than hot to me. He’s everything new and safe and inviting me to live again.
What’s that called?
“I just saw him.”
It’s all I need to say.
“Come on.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the crowd. Long rows of dining tables draped in white tablecloths are pushed to the edge of the room, each centered in front of a tall window. Finding an empty table, he guides me to the chairs by the window and pulls one out for me. I grab the linen napkin at an empty place setting and dab my eyes while I try to maintain my dignity and sit down.
