by Farrah Penn
“I haven’t ever felt threatened by them. Honest,” I say. “But I was afraid Margaret would react badly and send me back to live with you.”
Aunt June’s eyes fall soft with sympathy. “And you just wanted to be home.”
I nod.
“Well, I’m sorry to visit under unfortunate circumstances, but I’m looking forward to meeting them. I’m glad your father has this support system, you know.”
“I am, too,” I say, and I mean it. Because they’re not only his support system, but mine, too.
“And I’m glad you’re happy here, doll.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”
“Ah, I know.” She smiles. “But it’s nice to hear it.”
As I’m pulling in the driveway, I notice a strange, multi-colored something hanging from the mailbox. My brain automatically jumps to Nonnie’s love for rainbow extravagancies, but I know that can’t be it. After helping June with her suitcase, I start down the driveway.
“Just a second,” I say.
I open the mailbox all the way, freeing a Starburst bracelet made from only the tropical wrappers. There’s a note attached, but I already know who it’s from.
I KNOW YOU’RE GRIEVING, AND I WANTED TO SAY I’M SORRY. I DIDN’T WANT TO BOMBARD YOU WITH TEXTS OR ANYTHING. IF YOU WANT TO TALK, I’M HERE.
I clutch the bracelet in my hand. This is the first time I’ve heard from Alex in over a week. Does this mean he could be open to forgiving me?
I swallow, remembering our conversation in the workshop. He’s probably just offering his condolences. Like Lin said, that’s who he is—a nice guy.
“Anything good?” June asks as I’m unlocking the front door.
I stare down at the bracelet. “I hope so.”
Wallis bombards June as soon as we walk through the door. I use her suitcase as a blockade until my dad runs down the hall, grabbing him by his collar. Saylor is on his heels, apologizing profusely.
“I’ll let him outside,” he says. “I’m Saylor, by the way. It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” June says, and I can’t help but think how surreal it is that she’s here.
Wallis woofs as Saylor takes him away. He wanted to keep him, and he’d asked us if that was okay. I remembered when Nonnie said she wasn’t going to give up on him. I know Saylor won’t, either.
Peach steps into the room. “Oh, June, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She wraps her in a hug like they’ve been friends forever, and to my surprise June returns it. She says something to Peach that I can’t hear, but when I see Peach nod mournfully I can guess what it’s about.
“Come on in. You must be exhausted,” my dad says, placing her suitcase near the stairs.
June wraps my dad in another hug. “You look so good. How are you doing?”
“We’re holding up as best we can, I think,” my dad answers earnestly. “It was unexpected.”
While they sit in the living room, I walk into the kitchen where Peach is reheating some leftover soup for June. She gives me a tired smile when she sees me.
The guilt I’ve held on to for the last few months blankets me. Before I can think, I blurt, “I—I’m sorry… I’ve been meaning to say it for a while now, but I haven’t.”
Peach gives me a light squeeze on my shoulder. “Oh, Kira, I know.”
I’m surprised by this. I acted so horribly, yelling at her over a progress report. “You know?”
“Well, your pizza was a nice gesture, but Nonnie told me,” she explains. “She was really in tune with everyone’s feelings around here. And quite honestly, I did overstep some boundaries. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.”
I shake my head. “You were trying to help. All of you were. And you did.” I glance toward the living room. “My dad hasn’t been like this—like himself—in a while.”
“We all got some much-needed help at Sober Living,” Peach says. “But I do want you to know that I’m trying to work things out with my own family, and I know Saylor is trying really hard to move forward with his career. I’m not sure how long we’ll be here, but I want to respect you and your space.”
I know I can’t take back my next words, but I also know I don’t want to. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
When she smiles, there are tears in her eyes.
“Thank you. It’s a lot, especially with the holidays—” The microwave beeps. She blinks away her tears and stirs the soup. “Anyway, I appreciate it. Saylor and I both do.”
I step forward and give her a small hug. Surprised, she stands there for a moment before hugging me back. It feels nice, and I realize Nonnie was right. You have to forgive your own mistakes. I hope, somewhere, she knows that I have.
My dad walks into the kitchen as Peach is taking the bowl of soup to June.
“I’m proud of you, Goose,” he says. “I haven’t made this easy on you, but thank you for understanding.”
I nod, glancing back toward the living room. Dread sinks into my stomach when I realize there will come a time when June will go back to Portland and Saylor and Peach will move forward in their own lives. Things will go back to the way I wanted, and it’ll be just the two of us here. Only I’m not sure if I want that anymore. I’m scared of what will happen when they do leave.
“We’re going to be okay, right?” I look up at him. “Whenever it’s just you and me again… we’ll be okay?”
I know he hasn’t been reliable in the past. Life has hurt us both in so many ways, but in these last few months, it’s healed us, too. It’s helped us move on. We’ve both changed and adapted and survived.
My dad wraps one arm around me, then kisses the top of my head. “We’re going to be just fine.”
This time, I believe him.
Later, when everyone is finally asleep, I lie in bed, staring at a text message I’d carefully composed a few minutes earlier. I finger the Starburst bracelet around my wrist. Then I hit send.
ME: i got your note. i know it’s late, but can you meet at 7-Eleven?
Thankfully his reply comes quickly.
ALEX: give me 10 minutes
I’d been thinking of everything I wanted to say to him all evening. I’d been hurt that he didn’t forgive me right away, but then again, I don’t feel like I deserved immediate forgiveness. I’d been cruel, and he had a right to stay mad. He didn’t even have to reach out when he discovered Nonnie had passed, but he did. He did because he’s a good person. He’s someone I want in my life.
Someone I might love.
I pull on my navy hoodie and tiptoe downstairs. Wallis is in the guestroom with Peach, thankfully. June is on the couch, but her deafening snoring means she’s out like a light. I feel bad for sneaking out without my dad knowing, but I’ll be back. There’s no reason for him to worry.
The quick walk to 7-Eleven feels like it takes ages. The crisp night air stings my cheeks, but my thumping heart keeps my body heat regulated with nerves. I assume I’ll be the first one to arrive, which will give me time to mentally prepare, but when I round the corner of the building I’m surprised to see that Alex is already there.
His eyes meet mine. All kinds of emotions explode inside me. It’s been so long since he’s even looked at me, and the weight of his gaze makes me flush. He looks good. So good. His curly hair peeks out from underneath his beanie, and he’s wearing a faded denim jacket over a black T-shirt.
When he hands me a waxy, plastic cup, my breath catches in my throat. It’s a cherry red Slurpee. My icy fingers reach out and take it.
Alex keeps his gaze on me. “Want to talk in my truck?”
I nod, realizing that’s how he got here so fast. Once we’re inside, protected from the wind, I set my Slurpee in his cup holder and take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry—”
Alex turns to me, and I’m relieved I don’t see harshness in his features. “No, listen—you’ve apologized so many times and I just… I wanted to say some things.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. I got too in my head about you and Jay, which made me weirdly, um… insecure?” He flushes, but meets my gaze. “I don’t think you’re ashamed of me. I guess maybe I—maybe I wanted you to open up to me like you used to. But just because I tell you stuff about my life doesn’t mean you have to do the same, you know?”
I watch him tug on the back of his beanie, a little stunned at his upfront apology.
“I want to. Open up to you, I mean,” I say quietly. “I was scared for a lot of reasons. I didn’t want to have to leave a second time… and leave you. I want to finish what—”
I cut myself off. Finish what? Finish something that never began?
“I know,” Alex says, then shakes his head. “I mean, not fully. But I understand you wanted to do everything in your power to keep your dad from relapsing and from being sent away again.”
I look down at my hands. That’s all true.
“I shouldn’t have been so harsh toward you when you came to apologize. I was still hurt, I think, but that’s not an excuse.” He looks right at me. “If you want to talk about stuff, I’m here. I’ve always been here. And I won’t ever judge you. I, um, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want to be your friend.”
A lump rises in my throat. Friend. He wants to be my friend. Nothing else. It’s hard to hear, harder than I expected. And I know it’s because I wanted us to be more.
I can’t stay here. I reach for the handle of the door.
“What are you doing?” Alex asks, confused.
A chilly breeze rushes through the crack. “Leaving?”
To my surprise, Alex smiles. “Kira, I don’t want you to leave.”
Now I’m confused. “You don’t?”
He laughs. “No! Of course not. We had a fight. You apologized, and I also wanted to apologize for how I acted. But, um… I don’t want our friendship to be over.”
Disappointment tugs at my heartstrings. I think of our kiss back in the workshop, of our endless conversations and the intoxicating way he always smells like his familiar laundry detergent, like him. But I know this is my fault. I set us back again. Of course I’d need to earn his friendship before he could even see me as anything more.
But then Alex does something I don’t expect. Alex, the mostly shy, caring person that I’ve known for the last ten years, reaches for my hand.
My skin sparks with electricity.
“I also… I don’t want us to be over.”
I can’t help the tears that fall down my face. “You don’t think I screwed this up?”
“No.” He looks right into my eyes. “Kira, I care about you. A lot.” Then his body is angled toward mine, his hands delicately on my shoulders. “We’ve danced around the idea of being together for so long and, um… well… I want to be. Together, I mean.”
He’s nervous, but my own nerves burst with happiness at his words.
I can’t help but smile. “I want that, too.”
Alex smiles back, running his hands all the way up my shoulders until they gently cup my face. I’m not sure which of us leans in first, but we meet. Heat fills every inch of my body, a quiet flame that builds and builds. His lips are soft and cold and taste like cherry flavored syrup, and I want to live in the depths of this moment for eternity.
Suddenly, Alex backs away. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I mean, I’m sorry to hear about Nonnie.” Alex is stuttering now, nervous. “I don’t want you to think I’m, um, taking advantage of your grief or—”
I immediately shake my head. “No, I know you’re not.”
I feel him let out a sigh of relief.
Then I hear myself saying the things I’ve thought about since the funeral. “I wish you could have met her. She was really great. Sometimes strange. Well, a lot strange. But in her own way, you know? I wish I could go back and do it all again—introduce you and Lin and everyone. She gave me a lot of great advice.”
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I smile, remembering. “One time she met Freddie Mercury on the subway.” I stop. “You probably don’t want to hear about that.”
“No,” Alex says. “I do. Whenever you’re ready… we have time.”
I’m transported back to freshman year when we shared laughs in the backseat of his mom’s car. I think of all the shy glances that turned into meaningful gazes. I remember how devastated I was when he went to Sadie Hawkins with Lacey, and I can only imagine how he felt carrying around his feelings for me when I showed no signs of returning them—or how he felt when I left Cedarville without a good-bye. Despite all of that, he’d always been there. Always cared. And even though it had taken me longer to find my way back to myself, even with my twelve-steps list, I realized just how much I cared, too.
I lift my eyes, meeting his gaze. “I’m ready.”
He smiles. A beat later, he slides his hand back in mine. I realize he’s right—there is no rush. We have time.
So I start from the beginning.
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author’s note
LIKE KIRA, I GREW UP with a father who suffered from alcoholism. While his character arc was one that was familiar to me, I didn’t want to explore the negative aspects of this horrible addiction. That’s hard to relive in any context. So I chose to focus not only on Kira’s journey, but on the hopefulness of her father’s recovery—a process I watched my own dad go through.
I began writing this book in 2014, when my dad was still alive, but it wasn’t until he passed away early in 2016 that I realized how close to home this book was for me. While Kira’s story is not my own, it is one I wished my father and I could have had. I hope I’ve written something he would be proud of.
However, I know not all stories end happily like Kira and her father’s.
Loving an alcoholic is painful and heartbreaking. Addicts’ behaviors not only affect themselves, but their friends, families—their children. And when someone in your family has an addiction, it’s hard not to feel a wide variety of emotions, including shame, anger, depression, or helplessness. Watching someone struggle is an incredibly difficult burden to take on, but it’s something that shouldn’t be kept secret.
There are people who can, and want to, help you. Alateen provides a safe space to talk to sponsors and other teens concerned with someone they love who’s experiencing a drinking problem. There are also support programs, such as Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, designed to educate you on these diseases and provide a safe space to cope with any pain and difficulties you’ve experienced. You can also find information on the websites for the National Association for Children of Addiction and American Addiction Centers, with specific information for teens linked below.
National Association for Children of Addiction
nacoa.org/just-4-teens/
American Addiction Centers
americanaddictioncenters.org/guide-for-children/
Alateen
al-anon.org/newcomers/teen-corner-alateen/
Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation
hazeldenbettyford.org/treatment/family-children/childrens-program
acknowledgments
There have been a lot (A. LOT.) of people who’ve graciously listened to me talk about writing books, comforted me through rejection, and celebrated the publishing journey with me, and you all deserve a year-long vacation on a tropical island with a never-ending supply of cookies. Instead, I hope this sincere thank you will suffice.
A heartfelt thank you to everyone at New Leaf Literary. Sara Stricker, t
hank you for your brilliant notes and guidance. I am so grateful for my incredible agent, Suzie Townsend, who plucked me from the slush pile and continued to believe in me throughout these last several years. Suzie—my god—you’ve read SO many versions of this story and really helped me shape it into something great. You are a phenomenal person, and I am a better writer because of you. Thank you a million times over for your endless support.
To my amazing, hardworking team at Little, Brown/JIMMY Patterson Books: Thank you for reading my words and loving them enough to want to publish them. I am so lucky and fortunate to work with such exceptional people. Thank you to everyone who had a hand in bringing this book to life: Linda, Sabrina, Pat, Erinn, Scott, and everyone involved in the sales, design, and production. Many hugs, thanks, and praise to Sasha Henriques and Aubrey Poole for your extremely helpful edits—and for simply being wonderful.
I am also beyond thankful for my editor, Jenny Bak, who worked tirelessly to not only make this story stronger, but to give it so much more heart. Jenny, YOU ARE A DREAM. Your passion and enthusiasm for this story means more than I can express. Thank you, thank you, thank you for loving this book. You are savvy and lovely and dedicated, and I am so lucky to be on Team JIMMY with you!
I want to extend an endless thank you to James Patterson. It’s still surreal to me that you’ve read and loved this book! Thank you for championing Kira’s story, and thank you for giving it such a spectacular home. I am so appreciative to you and what you’ve built at JIMMY Patterson Books. You’ve helped make my dream come true.
Writing can often be a lonely profession, so I am incredibly grateful for my Los Angeles writer friends who’ve offered their support and friendship over the years, especially Julie Buxbaum, Jeff Garvin, Charlotte Huang, Kerry Kletter, Kathy Kottaras, Adriana Mather, and Nicola Yoon. You all are a wealth of knowledge and genuine treasures. I am so lucky to know you.
Extending enormous thank yous to the following authors who’ve been encouraging, kind, and supportive: David Arnold, Bree Barton, Stephanie Garber, Melina Marchetta, Maura Milan, Bridget Morrissey, Adam Silvera, Josh Sundquist, Jessica Taylor, and Jeff Zentner. I admire each and every one of you.