That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(2)

“So what then? You don’t think my speech will be much of a challenge?” I snap, looking over my shoulder at him.

“I didn’t say that.” He sighs heavily and narrows his eyes at me, obviously gauging my temper.

“I’m reading between the lines.” I like Doc because he doesn’t bullshit me. But I get tired of having to find all the answers myself. Him questioning my recovery like this makes me feel insecure at a time when I’m desperate to prove to everyone that I’m not the same person. “Come on now. Out with it, Doc. Tell me one thing that could be more challenging.”

“Look, Hayden, you’ve done the twelve steps. You’ve told your story in group therapy. You’re staying clean. These are all good things, so let’s focus on those.”

I walk back over to my seat. “Don’t hold back on me now, Doc. Come on! Challenge me,” I dare, tossing my hands out wide as I sit back down. I always did love a challenge.

He shrugs his shoulders like he was expecting my reaction. “I just wonder how you would react if I asked you to tell your story to a single person. Not a room full of others in therapy. Not a ballroom full of people. Telling your story to an audience full of strangers is one thing. Finding someone whom you can sit down with and look in the eyes and tell your story to is completely another. Not a family member or a close friend. Rather, an acquaintance. The point is you’re not just talking at them, you’re engaging with them. They’ll likely have questions and comments. You’d have to field them all with an open mind.”

“And you think that’s the ultimate challenge,” I scoff arrogantly, but feel a churning in my abdomen over the idea.

Doc shrugs. “You said you’ve been recalling the days leading up to your attempt?”

“Yeah,” I reply, grimacing at where he’s going with this.

“All right. Let’s try this…Find one person and tell them about the five days you experienced leading up to your attempt. Be honest. Be open. Be vulnerable. It will be difficult and it will pull you back to that time, but getting it out will be the ultimate test to your recovery. We’ll call it the ‘Countdown Challenge’.”

“Bloody hell,” I snap. “I thought this was why I am doing that big gala speech. To test myself…To push my recovery.”

“You’re doing that speech for many reasons, Hayden—one of which is for your family. It is a benefit they began for you, after all. But both of these challenges will push you in different ways.” He pauses, scratching his beard as he attempts to collect his thoughts. “Let me ask you this. Do you remember how important Leslie felt to you the day she found you?”

I nod, wincing at the flashback that blasts through my mind’s eye.

“She was important because you didn’t know her well. She wasn’t someone close to you, so you believed her intentions. Sharing your truth with someone new to you is a very similar experience. It could be incredibly enlightening.”

I huff, “And how will I find someone?”

Doc grins. “You’re a charming bloke…I’m sure you’ll find someone.”





THE BROTHERS HARRIS


“Oi, Vi! Get your arse down here, wench! We are in desperate need of libations!”

I stop dead in my tracks on the sidewalk near my flat and crane my neck toward the faint sound of shouting coming from down the alley.

“Don’t you ignore us, Vi! We know you’re up there!” a deep, booming voice bellows. I’d know those voices anywhere.

“I think I can climb this wall. Quick, Booker, give us a lift.”

My eyes fly wide as I hear a faint groan and a scuffle. I quickly rush around the corner and peer down the narrow alley that leads into the private entrance of my flat. “Oi! Tell me I’m hallucinating!” I shout, pushing my stray blonde strands away from my face to get a better look.

My four brothers freeze like the cat that got the cream. Tanner—who’s all of twenty-three, but acts like he’s twelve—is sitting upon the shoulders of his twin, Camden, while our baby brother, Booker, is bracing his hands low in preparation for Cam’s foot.

“What the bloody hell are you all doing?” I ask. My gaze swerves accusingly to our older brother, Gareth, who’s leaning against the brick wall of my building looking thoroughly entertained.

Gareth shrugs his broad shoulders. “Just trying to determine who’s going to break a bone this time.”

“Get down, the lot of you. Dad will string you up if someone gets injured! What were you planning to achieve there?” I glance up to the fire escape ladder that’s a good fifteen feet above our heads.

Tanner drops lithely off Camden’s shoulders and says, “I figured you were up in your garden with your ear buds in and couldn’t hear us. I thought we could grab hold of the fire escape if Booker could give us a boost.” He scratches the back of his shaggy blond hair as his blue eyes squint up toward the roof. He stares off into the distance speculatively and admits, “It didn’t seem so high a moment ago.”

“I live on the eleventh floor! You were going to climb the entire way up?”

“‘Course I was. I’m made of stronger stuff than most, Vi!” Tanner says, puffing his chest out.

“And Booker?” I snap, ignoring Tanner’s cocky demeanour. “You think putting the smallest one on the bottom of this death trap was a good idea?”