Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(68)

Breath held, I eased the door open and stepped inside.

“…so I’ll keep on with my journal,” the boy said. “Not sure if the meds are helping. But I’ll stick with ’em until I see the doc next week. And my mom…still trying to get her to come to a meeting. And that’s all.”

“Thank you for sharing, Henry,” the group said in cadence.

Several hands went up. Henry pointed at a man who looked to be about forty. The man lowered his hand and took a deep breath, wiping his hands once down his jeans. “Hi, I’m Will.”

“Hi, Will,” the group replied.

“I’m…this is my first time sharing.” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been here eight times. It’s only been five weeks since…” His hands trembled. He sucked in a shaky breath, brows furrowing. “My wife, Diane…” His voice broke. Then his eyes popped open, wild and unfocused. “I can’t. That’s all I’ve got.”

A big guy to his right put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s more than enough. We’re here to help any way we can. When you’re ready.”

The entire group nodded, eyes shining with intensity. “Thanks for sharing, Will.”

When Will dropped his face into his hands, shoulders racked with silent sobs, the big guy’s hand stayed on Will’s shoulder while he nodded to a woman who began to raise her hand.

“Hi, I’m Carrie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” the group responded in chorus.

“It’s been twenty-one months since my son Justin…”

My heart ached for this brave group of souls, survivors trudging through the muck of emotions everywhere they turned. Carrie told a heartbreaking story, one of trying to do all she could for her son, but he’d been pulled under by depression, unable to claw his way out.

Maybe I could help these people. At the least, show them distraction with a new endeavor. Running had done that for me and more. My distraction had set me free from my solitary life.

Zoned out for the moment, rapid movement caught my attention. Logan waved, then got up and crossed the room.

She pulled the brim of her hat down a little over her right eye, then tucked one side of her hair, part gloss-black and all of the pink streak, behind her ear. “You’re early.”

I nodded, stuffing a hand into my jeans pocked. “I hope that’s okay. Wanted to set up. Get comfortable.” As much as was possible on a first day.

“That’s cool. It’s the room across the hall.”

At her chin-nod in the direction over my shoulder, I glanced back toward an identical door with a vertical window slot.

“Thanks. This” —I tipped my head in nod behind her— “seems like a good group.”

“It is. Tough as hell at first. But if we stick it out, it helps. Takes time.”

“Like for Will.”

“Yeah.” She turned, glancing the man’s way. “He’ll be okay. Ron’s gonna sponsor him.”

“The big guy.”

Logan nodded. “Ron’s my sponsor too. Will…he’ll make it through okay.”

I didn’t even want to think about the alternative. Clearly the group held a vital role in their recovery. And if artwork would help a little more? I was all in. “I’ll let you get back. Just head on over whenever you guys are ready.”

“Thanks, Kiki.”

She gave me a quick hug, then crossed the room, skirting the chairs toward her own. When Carrie began to wrap up, Logan raised her hand while she took a seat. Carrie pointed at her.

And as Logan began to talk, my feet remained rooted where they were.

“Hi, I’m Logan.”

“Hi, Logan,” the group chimed.

“It’s been two years and three months since my mom took her life.” She sucked in a deep breath. “My mom committed suicide. I can finally say that out loud now. I’m starting to understand that she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it.

“And I’m still struggling with depression. Some days I lose time: I find myself zoned out and hours have whizzed by since my last clear memory. When my body feels too heavy, each breath torture to pull in, and the whole world closes in on me, I seem to shut down. But the last few weeks, that’s been happening less and less.”

As I listened to Logan share her innermost secrets, a small part of me felt guilty for eavesdropping. But a bigger part overrode the guilt. I’d eavesdropped on that roof, which is how I’d met her. She’d invited me onto her ledge. She’d also invited me to her group, to be a part of the private healing happening between these walls—wanted me to be a part of it.

And if understanding Logan and learning about her peers helped me do that, then it had to be okay.

Logan adjusted her hat again, tugging it up a little. “Some things are helping. I’m finally opening up to people. My brother…and I…made a new friend. She’s the first outsider I’ve told. And she’s cool. She’ll be teaching our art class after.” Her eyes narrowed, then scanned around the circle. “And you all had better go.”

Which was my cue to get ready. I glanced at my phone. Fourteen minutes.

“I’m still having problems at school…with other kids.” At her words, a part of me wanted to stay. But she’d already asked me for advice about kids and school privately on that rooftop. Now was her time with her peer support group. And she’d asked me to help her in another way.