Holding on to Forever Read online

  Mom hangs her head, talking quietly. “I know. We just don’t have the money to buy another one.” Embarrassment threads through her words.

  I swallow thickly. Money has been a constant source of contention since my asshole old man left us for another woman when I was ten.

  I clench my fists painfully, wishing the fucker were here so I could throttle him. He’d been mandated by the courts to pay child support that included extra for Phoebe’s medical care. But after two payments, the asshole disappeared. Mom reached out to her lawyer, but lawyers want money she doesn’t have. His advice was to hire a PI. Again, money was an issue. So, as a result, Mom was left to work two and three jobs to keep food on the table and the rent paid.

  But life became much easier when we moved to South Carolina and she found a good job at a hotel.

  However, money is an ongoing issue.

  The price tag for one of those vests is at least twenty grand.

  “Will your medical insurance pay for one?” I ask Mom. We’re lucky she has medical insurance through her job.

  She pins me with a cautionary look, urging me to drop it as she turns to the doctor. “Can we go in to see her?”

  Doctor Harmon nods once. “I’ll be back later to check on her. I’ll have a nurse come in and talk to you about how you can get the vest repaired or at least looked at.”

  Mom starts for Phoebe’s room when I catch her arm. “Wait. When were you going to tell me about the vest? And is that what you had to tell me before Doctor Harmon came out of Phoebe’s room?”

  She purses her lips into a thin line. “I’m trying to get the money, and I didn’t want to worry you.”

  My muscles tense. “She needs that therapy. When was her last session?”

  She puffs out her cheeks. “She used the vest three days ago. Since then, I’ve been doing it manually.”

  “Doesn’t your insurance cover that?”

  She stares at me with sad brown eyes that remind me so much of Phoebe when she’s bidding me goodbye on weekends. They are so alike with brown hair and eyes and a cute button nose. Mom told me once the only attribute I inherited from her was my brown hair. My green eyes, strong jaw, and somewhat patrician nose, I, unfortunately, inherited from my asshole Dad’s side.

  Whatever.

  I know one thing I’ll never inherit from him, and that’s his asshole cheating ways. I would never leave my family behind to fend for themselves. Especially if one of my kids was so sick.

  She sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I lost my job. That’s what I was about to tell you.”

  A buzzing noise starts in my ears as I angle my head. “Lost your job?” I repeat her words in a bit of a horrified daze. “Why?”

  Suddenly, the past is worming its way into my psyche, and I’m remembering the dark days when Mom didn’t have a job. When she cried night after night trying to figure out how we were going to survive. How she was going to pay for Phoebe’s medical expenses, rent, a car payment, food, and utilities.

  Fuck.

  We’d been forced to move out of our two-story middle-class house when my old man took off. We’d learned to survive on bread and butter and cans of soup, which was the only thing Mom could afford after she’d spent her entire savings on medical bills and trips to the hospital with Phoebe.

  Mom’s only sister couldn’t help us, and most of her so-called friends gradually abandoned us. Aunt Irene has her own money issues, feeding the five kids she has as a single mom, but she provides moral support to Mom in many different ways.

  Mom’s soft voice cuts through the buzzing in my ears. “The hotel is closing down. So, they’ve started letting people go. I’m looking, but every hotel I’ve contacted, their administrative staff is full.” She grips my arm. “Adam, not a word about this to Phoebe.” I nod, and she drops my arm before disappearing into my sister’s hospital room.

  I don’t follow her. I can’t. My mind is a mess ,and I need to pull myself together before I go in there. How the fuck are we going to survive this time? Or rather, how are Mom and Phoebe going to live? My dorm room is way too small for them to move in, and I don’t have a job.

  Mom pokes out her head. “Phoebe is asking for you.”

  I shake off the impending doom, which is going to be a fucking disaster if we can’t support Phoebe’s medical expenses. Right now, I need to see my sister.

  I plaster on a smile and walk in.

  Her brown eyes appear tired, and despite the contraption over her nose and mouth, she smiles when she sees me.

  I pony up to one side of the bed while Mom is on the other. “Hey, love bug.” I grasp her cold hand.

  With her free one, she takes off the mask. “How’s football? Find any girlfriends yet?”

  I grin. “My only girl is you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You need to have some fun, Adam.”

  Mom smiles. “He’ll find a girl one day.”

  I lock eyes with Mom. “I only need you two in my life.”

  I date, but it’s rare because I don’t have time for girls. I’m also not like Carter who fucks every girl he meets. That’s not me. The last steady girl I had was back in high school, and even then, I hadn’t fallen in love. I liked Deb a lot, but she and I agreed our relationship would end when we went off to college, and I haven’t regretted the decision.

  She wanted to be free to experience college life and date without any ties. I didn’t blame her, and I wanted the same too although football, family, and college have taken up all my time since I started last year.

  Sam comes in, smiling at Phoebe. “Hey, girl. What’s shakin’?”

  Phoebe giggles, and my heart blooms. I love hearing her laugh, and in this moment, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we have the money to support her treatments, medical equipment, and everything else we need to keep her healthy.

  2

  Emily

  Holding my shoes in one hand, I slowly turn my key in the lock and tiptoe into our house in my bare feet. All the lights are out, as I’d expect at this hour of night, but I’ve no idea if my parents are sleeping or still out. It’s not unusual for Mom to work into the early hours of the morning, and Dad spends a lot of time socializing with his friends or watching game tapes during football season since he’s head coach of the Cypress Bulldogs.

  So, I’m usually home alone most nights.

  It’s the only way I can tolerate the fact I’m a college sophomore and still living with the rents.

  Not that I had any choice.

  When I left rehab, Mom made it very clear I was staying home so she could ensure I wouldn’t embarrass her again.

  I offer up silent thanks to HIPAA for deeming it unlawful for the hospital to call my parents without my consent. Otherwise, there’d have been hell to pay.

  After what happened today, I’m not taking any chances. I creep up the stairs very slowly, and very quietly, like a sneaky thief prowling the hallways while everyone sleeps blissfully unaware. Light spills out from under Dad’s bedroom, and my breath stutters in my chest when the floorboards creak as I move past his door.

  “Is that you, princess?” he calls out, and I silently cuss. His door swings open before I’ve decided how to play it.

  His brow puckers as he takes in the state of me.

  And I know how bad it looks.

  My strawberry-blonde hair hangs in limp, stringy waves down my back. My eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, and my pale skin is even paler than usual. My lips are cracked, and I smell like something dredged from the bottom of a cesspit. My clothes are creased, and dried vomit is visible on my top.

  After the unexpected seizure, I puked all over myself, but there wasn’t time to do anything about it because some do-gooder had seen me convulsing on the pavement and called an ambulance.

  I brace myself for a lecture, preparing a slew of believable lies, hating that I’m back here again.

  “What happened?” Dad asks. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes and aro
und his mouth appear more noticeable as worry transforms his features, but I’m not sure if he’s worried about me or his precious football team.

  “I got food poisoning,” I lie. “From this place downtown I went to for lunch. Scarlett brought me back to her dorm, and I passed out. Didn’t realize it was late until I woke a while ago. Sorry if I worried you.”

  He peers deep into my eyes, and I silently pray for forgiveness. It’s tempting to dismiss it, because what’s one more lie when I’ve told an ocean full of lies in my nineteen years on this planet. Except, I think Dad genuinely cares, and I hate disappointing him. Hate proving my mother right.

  Which is why they can’t know I’m using again.

  I won’t give that bitch the satisfaction of throwing me out on my ass.

  I hold my father’s gaze confidently even though I’ve just blatantly lied to his face.

  “Is that what really happened?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I swear it’s the truth.” The devil on my shoulder chuckles gleefully. There’s no angel to offer a balance because—if guardian angels exist—mine has long since given up on my pathetic ass and left me to my demons.

  He cups my cheek. “You know I love you, princess, and you can tell me anything. I will never judge.”

  I gulp over the lump clogging my throat. “I know, Daddy,” I whisper as a heavy weight presses down on my chest.

  “I failed you once before and I won’t do that again.” He peers deep into my eyes, and I keep my mask in place, because I know what he’s doing, and I can’t go there. “So, if there’s anything I need to know now is a great time to tell me.”

  “There isn’t anything to tell,” I lie, plastering a fake smile on my face. “Things are good. I’m working hard, and my grades are steady, and I have Scarlett, and we hang out with a great crowd on the weekends. Life is great.” I’m smiling so wide I fear I’ll end up with lockjaw.

  “All I want is to see you happy.” He kisses the top of my grungy head, and I inwardly cringe. I’m betting even my hair smells like puke. It’s like I bathed in that shit. “But I’ll settle for seeing you clean and healthy.” His words are light, infused with humor, but concern is still there in the background.

  I think it always will be.

  After discovering me unconscious in the front yard during senior year of high school, lying in a pool of my own vomit, with a cold sheen of sweat on my brow, my father will never stop worrying about me. I know I almost gave him a coronary that night. My mother too. But for very different reasons.

  “Grab a quick shower and then get into bed before your mother comes home.”

  “She’s still out?” I shuck out of his embrace, glancing up at him.

  His lips purse. “Working. Apparently.” His tone is clipped, and I can tell he believes it about as much as I do.

  My face drops, but I don’t say anything, because what’s there to say? My parent’s marriage is a complete sham but we’re the only three people who know the truth. Mom’s high-powered job as president of Cypress University means appearances matter almost as much as her qualification for the role, so, on the outside, they look like the perfect couple, we look like the perfect family, but it’s all lies.

  It’s no wonder I’ve turned out to be such a competent liar.

  It’s all I’ve ever known.

  After I grab a quick shower, taking extra time washing my hair and brushing my teeth, I climb into bed with a loud yawn. My heart soars when I spot the glass of water and pills on my bedside table. Dad must have put them there while I was showering. At least one of my parents has made an effort to change their neglectful ways since my overdose, but it still doesn’t eradicate the giant, gaping hole in my chest.

  * * *

  “How are you feeling today?” Scarlett whispers when we meet for coffee on campus the following morning.

  “Like death warmed over,” I truthfully admit. “At least, I slept. That’s something.” I have a ton of sleep issues, so getting five hours of uninterrupted sleep is heavenly. Not that it helps me feel any more energetic this morning.

  Weekdays are hard, and it’s becoming increasingly challenging to stay away from Molly during the week. I try to focus on my studies and my tutoring, Monday to Friday, and let loose on the weekends, but I’ve been depressed a lot these past few weeks, and the temptation is strong.

  I only broke my self-made rules yesterday because Weston fucking Blakely drove me to despair.

  “It’s not like you to get high mid-week,” Scarlett admits in a hushed tone, her green eyes appraising “What happened? You weren’t very coherent when I collected you from the hospital.”

  “Weston was harassing me again, and I just needed to get away from campus and him. He has photographic evidence of me snorting coke from the last frat party, and he’s threatening to send it to my parents.”

  “Fuck.” Scarlett’s eyes pop wide.

  “I know. I freaked out and stormed off campus, stopping at Randaddy’s for a drink, and I ended up buying some shit off a random dude. Worst mistake ever. I started convulsing almost straightaway, and the bouncer tossed me out onto the sidewalk. Some good Samaritan called an ambulance.”

  “Shit, Em.” Scarlett rubs the spot between her brows. “You should’ve called me to go with. Then maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I just wanted to be alone.” I shrug, sipping on my soy latte. “To figure out what to do about that blackmailing bastard.”

  “We should hire a hitman,” she jokes.

  At least, I think it’s a joke.

  I snort. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “That jerk isn’t worth spending a life behind bars. We’ll figure out a way to get him off your back.” She punches out a message on her phone, speaking without looking up. “We need to find a reliable new supplier.”

  “Tell me about it.” Our usual supplier, Loco, was arrested last month, and my supply is nonexistent at this point.

  On a campus of this size, there are plenty of dealers, but you can’t be sure what you’re buying. Case in point—look what happened to me yesterday. I also need to find someone trustworthy who won’t stab me in the back by reporting me to my mother. I can’t take the risk of my parents discovering I fell off the wagon, because my miserable life definitely won’t be worth living if they find out.

  “Zach said he was chatting to a new guy. Ray something. He’s a seriously legit operator with a network of dealers under his control. He’s trying to hook us up with someone local who should be able to get us anything we want, so hopefully that’ll be a runner.”

  “I hope he fixes it soon, because I never want to experience what I experienced yesterday.” I shudder as the memory invades my mind. My heart had been punching my ribs so hard and fast before I started seizing I legit thought I was dying at one point.

  I’d like to say it scared me enough to make me stop.

  But it didn’t, and it hasn’t.

  Or maybe, it’s just I place such little value on my life that the thought of it ending doesn’t worry me in the way it should.

  I know when I actively checked out of life, and it hasn’t gotten any easier since.

  “Either way, we’ll head to the frat party Saturday night,” Scarlett says, exiting the coffee shop with me hot on her heels. “We should at least be able to score some weed on the down low.”

  Except weed just doesn’t cut it anymore. Last year, when I first relapsed, weed was my drug of choice, and it was a step up from the pills I was hooked on during high school. But it no longer satisfies my cravings. Not now I’ve experienced the euphoric high that ecstasy, a.k.a. Molly, supplies. When I truly want to get out of my head, and forget who I am, nothing beats it.

  “It’s not my first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers,” I admit, as we walk toward the main part of campus.

  “Zach will fix us up with a new supplier.” She drags her nails through her short, blonde pixie cut. “And if he’s slacking, maybe a little threesome will incentivize him to try h
arder.”

  Scarlett and I are so alike in many ways but completely different in other regards. Like her casual reference to the wild monkey sex we all tend to indulge in when we’re high. I love it in the moment, but the next day, I wallow in a pit of self-loathing, wishing I could turn back the clock and rewrite the scene.

  “I’m making no promises,” I say in between drinking the dregs of my latte.

  She winks playfully. “Famous last words.”

  * * *

  I manage to make it through the day, but I’ve a banging headache by the time my last class ends, and I’m grateful I don’t have any tutoring sessions this evening so I can go home and crawl into bed.

  “You look like shit,” a voice I hate says, as I exit the auditorium into the hallway. My body immediately reverts to alert mode as Weston pushes off the wall with a smirk.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, casting troubled eyes around me as my fellow classmates trickle into the hallway. They usually ignore me, which suits me fine, but, of course, today, they are all up in my business, thanks to the asshole presently blocking my path.

  Weston is a notorious player, and as president of the largest frat house, very well known on campus. With his six-feet-one-inch frame, jet-black hair, smoldering brown eyes, and ripped body, he attracts attention for all the wrong reasons.

  He may look like sex on a stick, but he’s an arrogant, obnoxious asshole who treats women like shit and thinks nothing of it.

  Our parents are super close, and they’ve spent years trying to force us together, but Weston displayed zero interest in me, and that’s exactly how I liked it. However, lately, he seems to have changed his mind and he’s pursued me relentlessly.

  His feelings may have altered, but mine haven’t.

  I want nothing to do with the conceited pig.

  But I fear I’ve just lost my right to choose.

  “Now, now, sweetheart,” he says, sneering as he winds his hand around the nape of my neck and jerks me in flush against his body. “That’s no way to treat your new boyfriend.” His warm breath fans over my face, turning my stomach.