If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(31)

Mila grabs my hand as we walk and holds it, and it feels really intimate.

“I used to play here on this beach when I was a kid,” she tells me as she gazes around at the frozen wild-grass and gray water. “Maddy and I used to run up and down this stretch of sand while our parents worked in the restaurant. It was a great childhood. Where did you play?”

I think on that as I guide her around a piece of driftwood.

“I don’t really remember,” I tell her. “I have bits of memories from my grandfather’s estate. I think my mother maybe took me there from time to time. And I remember a few Christmases. But nothing more than that.”

She looks at me sympathetically again, but doesn’t say anything. I have a feeling she knows that I wouldn’t like it.

“Do you think there’s a God?” she asks, changing the subject. And it seems so out of the blue. I stare at her.

“What kind of question is that? It’s so random.”

I smile and we continue to walk and I feel the moisture of the wet sand permeating my dress shoes. I wish that I would have worn my boots, but they would have looked out of place with slacks.

Mila sighs.

“I don’t know. It’s not really random. I just wonder from time to time. Don’t you? I never really thought about it until my parents died, but now it crosses my mind sometimes. I can’t help it. And we were talking about other deep things tonight, so I just thought I’d ask. I’m trying to get to know you.”

She smiles and squeezes my hand and my heart softens a bit. There’s something about this girl. I know that she could ask anything, and I’d probably answer.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t know about God. I’m sure he’s there somewhere. Out there. Probably looking down on all of us and wondering why we’re so f*cked up. And if he’s there, I’m sure he forgot about me a long time ago.”

Mila’s breath catches in her throat, I can hear it. And she stops, turning to me, her hand on my arm. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with something that I can’t identify.

“Why would you say that?” she asks quietly.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. There’s something missing in me, Mila. It’s just not there and I’m not sure if it ever was. And I’m pretty sure that God doesn’t mess around with someone like that.”

For some reason, there’s a lump in my throat and I have no idea why. I swallow it and stare down at the delicate, beautiful girl on the beach beside me. Anyone else might have tucked tail and run. But not her. Her feet are planted and her eyes are wide.

She reaches up and touches my chest, then my face.

“You’re wrong,” she tells me softly. “About everything. You don’t see yourself the way I see you. But if you did, you would know that there’s nothing missing in you at all. I think that you’ve always used drugs to block out questions that you’ve had about yourself, or doubt or fear. I’m not sure what all your reasons were. But I know that you’ve got things you’ve never dealt with or thought about, and that’s probably why you feel a void now. But once you discover what it is that you need to deal with, you’ll feel whole again. No more holes, no more voids. That’s what I think.”

My eyes burn as I stare down at this incredibly perceptive woman. I do have a lot of shit that I’ve never bothered to think about. In fact, I went way out of my way to avoid thinking about it. And maybe that was what was most to my detriment—not doing crazy shit, like I thought.

“I think you know me better than you should,” I tell her gruffly. She smiles her delicate smile.

“I don’t know you nearly as well as I’d like to,” she answers, wrapping her arms around my neck. “But I’m going to remedy that.”

And then she kisses me. As she does, everything seems right in the world, like it always does when she’s in my arms. It’s like holding a ray of sunshine. I kiss her until we can’t breathe and when we finally pull away, we take a breath and kiss again.

The stars twinkle overhead, the lake is soundless and calm to our left and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel like I’m home.





[page]Chapter Eleven


I wake up craving coke for the first time in a week.

I don’t know why, because last night was f*cking amazing. Mila and I had walked along the beach until we were exhausted. We held hands and kissed, then held hands some more. I had walked her to her car, where we kissed yet again. But I didn’t invite her to my place and she didn’t invite me to hers.

This is too good to f*ck up. Even an * like me knows that. If she wants to take it slow, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m not going to rush her. I have a hand for a reason and I’m not afraid to use it.

Just thinking the word use makes me remember my craving, the one where I want my nose to burn and the numbness to spread through me.

But it’s just habit. Because for the first time since I can remember, I don’t want to be numb. Mila makes me want to feel things… with her and for her. She makes me want to be a better person simply so that I can be around her.

So, I throw my covers back and do an impetuous thing.

I take the lid off of my vial and dump every pill inside it into my toilet, flushing them down. As I watch them swirl around, I’m overcome by a moment of panic.