In Her Wake (Ten Tiny Breaths 0.5)(30)

I sigh. He’s probably right.

“You feel you need some form of closure from her?”

Another nod. “Or something.” I’m afraid to say more.

Pulling a pad of lined paper and a pen out from a drawer, he tosses them on the desk in front of me. “Write it out. Everything you want to say to her. I don’t need to see it. But get it all out, and then leave it at that. In time, she may seek you out. You can give it to her then, if you want. Or you can say it out loud.” He pauses. “Just be prepared that she may not ever want to meet you and she deserves to make that call. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I sigh. It’s not exactly what I want to hear.

■ ■ ■

I lie in the twin bed in my sunny little room, pondering everything that Stayner has said. That’s one thing he gets me doing. Thinking. It’s like the guy has a wizard’s wand.

I think about Kacey Cleary as I always do—wondering how she’s doing right now, hoping that she’s not getting herself into trouble. How much farther can she spiral? I guess she could hit rock bottom, like I did. Maybe she has already. What if I’m released from here to find out the worst? All of my time with Dr. Stayner will have been worthless; I’m sure of it. For so many reasons, both selfish and not.

Because I want her to be free of this.

And because while I can make as many amends as I want, I don’t think I’ll ever truly move on until she does.

Until that sparkle in her eye comes back, that smile shines bright again.

The pad of paper lies across my chest; where it has stayed for hours, rows upon rows of scratched-out sentences. Because there just are no words.

Only a wish.

■ ■ ■

Stayner’s handshake is as firm as I would expect from a man of his integrity and strength.

“You ready to be released into the wild again?” he asks, a proud smile on full display. He should be proud. He’s given me strength and focus.

A purpose.

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess.” It feels weird, leaving these walls five weeks later, considering the state I entered them in. But I think I’m ready.

Stayner frowns. “What’s going on in your head, Trent? You’re hung up on something, aren’t you?”

Damn guy. I can’t say no or he’ll probably shred the release papers. Not that I can’t leave of my own accord—this isn’t prison. But I promised my parents that I’d see it through and I have every intention of doing that. So I admit vaguely, “I’m nervous. About everything. About seeing people again. About seeing my parents after what I put them through.”

He slaps my shoulder, like I’d imagine a father would do to his son. “Do you know how happy they are today, waiting out there in the parking lot? Knowing that they’re getting their son back?”

I bite my tongue against the urge to argue that I’m not the same person anymore. “Yes, but they’re still divorcing. They’ve still lost their entire retirement fund. I can’t change that.”

He nods solemnly. “You’re right. You can’t. That’s a challenge that the two of them—and their relationship—must face. But any good parents will give all the money in the world to keep their child alive and well. I’ve met your parents. They’re good people, Trent. So, you just focus on you. You have a solid recovery plan in place, people who love you, and, most important, you have amends to make.”

I nod. He’s right about that.

Pushing through the doors of the clinic, I see my dad’s SUV parked out front. He and my mom slide out of their seats, hopeful smiles on their faces.

All it takes is a returning smile and my mom’s eyes water.

Holding up my finger—asking them for a minute—I slip my phone out of my pocket and hit number three on my speed dial.

“Hello?” It’s as hollow as ever, but it’s her voice.

I hit the “end” button and feel relief wash over me. Kacey’s still here. She’s still hanging on. That’s all I can hope for right now. I can feel the folded note in my back pocket, the one that maybe I’ll be able to give her one day. Maybe. But Stayner’s right; it’s not fair that I seek her out for my own healing.

So I’ll stay away from her.

For now.

Chapter 16

September 2010

Her hands rub the transfer onto my back with slow, smooth swipes. “What language is this?”

“Latin.”

“Huh . . . Sit up straight. Is this good?”

I follow her instructions and use the mirror in front to see the reflection in the one she’s holding up to my shirtless back. The heavy black lettering stretches from blade to blade. “Perfect.”

“Okay, Trent. Ready for your first tattoo?” I see the sparkle in her gaze, the sensual curve of her smile, as she holds the tattoo gun in one hand. I wonder if she’d still be giving me those f**k-me eyes if she knew I was in an inpatient rehab for attempted suicide only a few months ago.

Not that it matters. My attention is on one girl now and I won’t let it get divided.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

■ ■ ■

“Hello?” Impatience fills her voice.

And I immediately break out in a sweat. “Is James there?”

“James? No. There is no James at this number. Learn how to dial!” Full irritation now. But she’s sober. I’ve called on three different Saturday nights and she’s been coherent each time. That says something. Maybe her spiral has stopped. Maybe she’s getting better.