by K. A. Linde
“So, I guess I’m going to go,” Austin said.
His eyes were so intent on mine that I couldn’t pull myself away even if I wanted to.
“I’ll be out of here for the next ninety days at least. Plenty of time for you to figure out if you want anything to do with me. But just don’t forget about me, okay?”
“Austin, I’m not giving you any promises.”
“I don’t want you to. I want you to know that you’re the most important thing in my life.” He took a step forward and dropped a soft kiss onto the top of my head. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I realized that too late.”
Then, he pulled away from me without a good-bye. It was as if he might never leave if he stayed another moment.
I watched Jensen’s truck barrel down the road, carrying Austin far, far away from here. I was shaken. I didn’t know where to start. Part of me was fucking furious that, after everything, he’d gone and gotten fucked up and then hooked up with Maggie. But the other part of me was just so happy he was going to get help. He needed it. He really fucking needed it.
Heidi’s head popped out of the front door. “Did he just leave?”
“Yeah,” I said distantly.
“Everything all right?”
I could see Landon standing behind her with a worried expression on his face.
“Jensen is taking him to rehab.”
“Oh, wow,” Heidi said.
“Are you serious?” Landon asked, coming fully out of the house now.
I nodded. “Yeah. Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Of course,” Landon said. “What’s up?”
“Will you get me Maggie’s number?”
He frowned. “Uh, why?”
“Because I need to make a very important phone call.”
I didn’t give two fucks if Maggie hated me. The feeling was mutual. But I wanted all the fucking facts about what had really happened. I wanted to hold on to my anger and not trust everything he’d said. It was easier than thinking that maybe, just maybe, Austin had realized his mistakes. Easier than thinking that we might have a shot at this if he really did get the help he needed.
Thirty-Five
Austin
When I’d asked Jensen to take care of it, I hadn’t quite expected this. We were in Malibu, driving up to an enormous and gorgeous rehabilitation facility. It was the best in the country and had the price tag to prove it.
“I can’t believe we just flew to California for this,” I said.
“Well, it’s not a vacation,” Jensen said as we moved through the gated doors.
“Of course not.”
“I got you the best treatment available. This is where all the top celebrities go because it offers them the privacy they need to get better. You deserve nothing less than that.”
It was on brand with the Wrights. Jensen did what he could to protect the family and the company.
“Thanks, Jensen.”
The car stopped in front of the giant building, and we were brought inside.
“Mr. Wright,” a man said, approaching us.
“Yes, Austin,” I said, shaking his hand.
“And you must be Jensen.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Bartholomew. We’re glad to have you here. Right this way, and we’ll get you checked in and settled into your new villa.”
Villa?
I raised my eyebrows at Jensen, and he just shrugged.
“We want you to be as comfortable as possible. We think treatment shouldn’t be in a hospital-like setting where more stress could fracture your recovery. We just want to help you succeed, and everything we do here is focused on that goal.”
“Great,” I said skeptically.
The man laughed. “You’ll fit right in here. Everyone has that same tone when they first get here. But, while it might seem luxurious, your days will be packed with activities and therapy to get you on the right track.”
When Jensen realized I wasn’t going to say anything, he smiled at Bartholomew. “That’s excellent. I’d expect nothing less.”
“You do want to get better?” Bartholomew asked me, ignoring Jensen and staring at me straight in the face.
Did I?
Fuck.
I wanted to say, Yes. I wanted to say, Of course. I wanted to say so many things. But the truth was, the thought of professional help scared the shit out of me. What if I was a lost cause? What if, despite the six thousand dollars a week that Jensen was going to fork over for this insane rehab center, I couldn’t get my shit together?
“I’m ready to try,” I finally said.
Bartholomew nodded with a kind smile. “That’s all we ask. We can help you with the rest.”
Julia
Austin hadn’t slept with Maggie.
I’d actually made that phone call even though I was terrified to. I’d thought that maybe he’d told me to call Maggie as a bluff. He hadn’t thought I’d actually call her. But, hey, I’d pulled a gun on my ex-boyfriend. One phone call couldn’t be that bad.
Maggie had admitted that he had stopped at a kiss, that he’d gotten all mopey about me and then tried to apologize for using her. She’d laughed, as if she was using him. Then, she’d threatened me within an inch of my life if I ever called her again and hung up on me.
But I believed him now. Didn’t make him inviting her over or that kiss any better. But he’d been honest. It was a step in the right direction. Even if I wasn’t ready for a relationship…and had no clue if I ever would be again.
He’d found the honest bone in his body and then fucking left.
He’d really, really left.
Landon told me that he was at some ritzy rehab center in California with security that even paparazzi couldn’t get through. The program he was in required no outside contact for the first thirty days. He’d start family therapy after that, and Landon was excited to get to go to California and see him. I was sure he was also interested in taking a vacation, but I didn’t say it.
Not that I was checking up on Austin or anything.
Okay, maybe a little.
It was really quiet around here without him. But I was kind of glad that I had time to process.
Plus, it helped that, two weeks after Austin left, I finally found the most perfect apartment ever.
“I am so sorry I stayed here for so long,” I told Heidi and Landon on moving day.
“I’d be more okay with it if you helped move this couch,” Landon grunted.
“Shit, sorry,” I said, jumping into action.
“We really should have hired someone,” Heidi said.
“My back is going to love this,” Landon grumbled.
“Aw, poor baby,” Heidi cooed.
“Can you keep your lovey-dovey bullshit to yourselves until after we get this couch out the door?” Patrick groaned.
Heidi laughed. “No apologies from me.”
Morgan wrinkled her nose. “Just keep all this shit to a minimum when Sutton gets here.”
“She’s coming?” I asked in shock. I ran my back into the doorframe and dropped the couch. “Fuck!”
“Yeah, Jensen and Emery are bringing her. We’re trying to get her out of the house some. Kimber said she’d watch Jason,” Morgan said.
“Wow,” I muttered. “How has she been?”
Morgan shook her head and glanced away.
Eesh. That bad.
“Julia, couch,” Patrick grumbled.
Somehow, I felt more like I was part of the Wright family than ever despite the fact that Austin was gone. I didn’t know if they were doing it out of obligation because of him or if they just liked me, but I was grateful. It was hard not to feel loved when these amazing people reached out to me.
Jensen, Emery, and Sutton showed up when we were already almost finished with my old apartment. I didn’t have that much stuff. Especially after burning half of my clothes, including that damn bomber jacket. Sutton looked like a hollowed-out version of herself. Since Mav had died a
month earlier, she’d lost at least ten pounds. Her cheekbones jutted out of her face, and her dress hung off of her. She didn’t say much, just started picking up small boxes and taking them to the moving truck.
By the time we done unloading at my new studio apartment downtown, it was lunchtime. The selling point of the place was that it had the gorgeous space for my art. And I figured, if Austin was getting the help he needed, then I was going to help myself, too.
Sutton came to stand at my side in the art studio. All I had in there were a few boxes of supplies and an easel.
She stared at the blank easel. “Do you love my brother?” she asked.
I turned to face her, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was somewhere very far away.
“I don’t know if it’s that simple.”
“I heard how much of an idiot he was.” She finally met my eyes with her sad, sorrowful ones. “But, if you love him—and I assure you that he loves you—and you let him go because of his relapse, then you’re the idiot.” She sighed. “I’m just saying…you never know how much time you have together. Forgiving someone is easier than living without them.”
I watched her retreating back with a rapidly growing ache in my chest. Sutton had firsthand experience in the matter, and it had drastically changed her from the silliest of the entire Wright bunch to…the wisest.
And her words were wise.
Austin
“Austin!” Morgan said with a huge smile. She threw her arms around me and squeezed me tight. “Man, I’ve missed you. I didn’t realize how quiet it would be without you cutting up.”
I laughed and released Morgan. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You look good,” Landon said.
We clapped hands, and then he pulled me in for a hug.
“Not good but better,” I told him.
They were all here. In California. Jensen, Landon, Morgan, and even Sutton.
“Hey, sis,” I said, pulling my little sister toward me.
She was a shell of her former self. I couldn’t believe how tiny she was. She’d never been a big girl, but now, she was a rail.
“Are they feeding you? Because I have a personal chef here, and he’s the shit.”
She cracked a smile. “I eat. Don’t worry about me. We’re here for you.”
Jensen reached out and shook my hand last. “I think I like this place even better than when I dropped you off.”
“It grows on you.”
It had grown on me. In the month I’d been here, I’d started to love the Malibu center. The first week at least, I’d hated it. Well, I’d hated everything and everyone. Detoxing my body from all the alcohol I’d consumed over the years was more painful than I’d ever imagined. I was right when I’d thought that going cold turkey would kill me. It probably would have without the right people looking over me. But, now, I was into the actual rehabilitation part. That also meant, visitors. Eventually maybe even approved weekend trips, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
“No Patrick?” I asked.
“He couldn’t make it,” Morgan said. “He has a big work project. His boss is a bitch.”
I laughed. “You’re not a bitch. You’re just efficient.”
“He’ll be here next time. Don’t worry.”
“Good. And…Julia?” I managed to get out.
I’d talked about Julia a lot in therapy. Thought about how I’d treated her, how I felt about her, where to go from here. Not that therapy gave anyone answers. Just a hell of a lot more things to think about. And Julia was constantly on my mind.
All of my siblings were stone-cold silent though.
Finally, Landon spoke up, “She’s doing good. She’s just still…I don’t know.”
“She needs more time,” Sutton finished. “But she misses you.”
“She said that?” I asked hopefully.
“No, but I know she does.”
“Oh.”
I supposed that was a start. I didn’t expect her to ever forgive me…or even miss me. So, if she did, I’d take it.
“Well then…why don’t I show you around?”
I took my siblings on a tour of the facility. If I weren’t here for rehab, I would think this was a resort. It had heated pools and private tennis courts, a spa, horseback riding, and even a fully equipped art studio. I would have loved to show that to Julia. If I had an artistic bone in my body, I would take some classes. But I’d leave that to her.
Morgan leaned forward on the balcony and yawned. “I could just take a nap. I’m so tired.”
“I bet.”
“Work is…a mess.”
“Have you hired a new CFO?”
Being isolated meant that I didn’t know anything that was going on in the world and even less about the company.
She frowned. “We put out an offer to David Calloway this past weekend. I’m sure we’ll have to negotiate the contract, and then he’ll start next week.”
“You made the right choice. David seems like a great guy. I really liked him when I met him.”
“You’re not upset?”
“That I’m not the CFO?” I laughed and shook my head. “No. No, I’m definitely not. I was stupid to think that was what I wanted in the first place.”
“No, it wasn’t stupid. We’re Wrights. We are the company. Jensen knows that.”
I shrugged and leaned forward. Jensen, Landon, and Sutton had gotten into suits and were hanging out by the pool. Maybe they needed this visit as much as I did.
“I wasn’t ready for that job. Jensen knew that, too. I’d rather you have someone like David, who already knows his stuff, and you can train him. It’ll be easier than working with me.”
“A month in here, and you’re this sensible?” she teased. She poked me in my finally-healed ribs. “Who will you be when you come out?”
“Same me.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute.”
“Sober me,” I suggested.
“What are you going to do when you get out?”
“I don’t know. Will I still have my job?”
Morgan arched an eyebrow. “Do you still want it?”
“If I’ve learned anything from this experience so far, it’s that I didn’t appreciate a goddamn thing about my life before this. That job was a godsend, and I treated it like a joke. I felt entitled to whatever I wanted without having to work for it. That isn’t real life. But I love that company, Morgan.” I turned to face her. “Maybe as much as you do. I always have.”
“Then your job is waiting for you when you get back.”
“Thank you. I know I probably don’t deserve that, but I do appreciate it.”
We both stared down at the pool.
“You want to change? Or are you going to take that nap?” I asked.
Morgan stepped back into my villa, as if debating on what she was going to do. “Let’s join them.”
“All right. I’ll get a suit.”
“Austin?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you going to do about Julia when you get back?”
I smiled. I’d thought about that a lot. “Appreciate the fuck out of her.”
Thirty-Six
Julia
My hands were covered in paint. Drop cloth obscured the hardwood floor of my studio. Canvas took up every open space.
It was perfect. A messy perfection.
Just like me.
Something had taken over me ever since I moved in. I couldn’t stop painting, drawing, sketching. I’d even tried my hands at sculpting. Art infused my body and my mind. It made my soul sing.
It was like I’d found my muse.
My eyes moved to the only one hundred percent finished painting in the whole room. It was the naked picture of Austin I’d painted in art class this summer.
Nina had called me to come pick it up even though I wasn’t taking any more classes. She’d been impressed with my work and asked me to come back. She’d introduced me to the art community in Lubb
ock.
And, suddenly, I’d come alive. I had a naked muse in my studio and a group of people encouraging my art in a way I never had before. It felt right. Wright even.
The doorbell rang, and I actually didn’t jump. I’d destroyed a few good paintings that way. But art had become my therapy. With it, I was finally de-stressing, post-Dillon.
I wiped my hands off the best I could on a red towel and then gave up. I was in leggings and a tank top that used to be white before I covered it in paint. My hairdresser, Lisa, had dyed my hair into a rose-gold ombré, so it was lighter on the top before it faded out into the red I’d had for so long. I liked the new look. Not that anyone could see it in the messy bun I had on the top of my head.
I looked out the peephole and didn’t see anyone there. After deactivating the security system and unlocking the door, I pulled it open. I warily looked around before realizing there was a giant box on my doorstep.
My eyes rounded in confusion.
“What the…”
I hadn’t ordered anything.
I checked the shipping address. It was from somewhere in California. Huh.
It wasn’t heavy when I kicked it inside. I found a pair of scissors in a drawer in my coffee table and tore into the packing tape. The box was covered from top to bottom in little green Styrofoam peanuts.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
I dug my hand in, up to my elbow, before I came across whatever was in the box. I wrapped my fingers around something soft and tugged. In a shower of peanuts came a shiny pink-sequined unicorn with a ribbon tied around its neck and a letter attached to it.
I burst into laughter when I saw Waffle.
I’d known that the unicorn had ended up at Austin’s house, but I’d thought he’d just forgotten about it. And maybe about me, too. He’d been able to have outside communication for three weeks, but he hadn’t reached out to me.
With excitement that I couldn’t explain, I plucked the letter off of Waffle’s neck and placed our unicorn on my kitchen island. I ripped open the envelope and stared down at the neat print of Austin’s handwriting.