I look right at her. “So, you lied to me. You hate me.”
Surprise widens her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You hate me,” I accuse. “Because of what I am… an addict.” I stand right up, my fists balling up at my side, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “I know the shit I put everybody through, I really do. I have to think about it a lot. I talk about it in therapy, a lot. Do you really believe that I would just do it all over again?”
“Nobody hates you, Gracie,” she says gently. “We’re just all very concerned for you.”
I point at Owen. “He wants to hate me.”
Owen snorts. “Of course, I do, but I don’t. Just admit the fucking truth, Gracie,” he demands.
I turn to him, and Owen tilts his head back, looking up at me in anger. I step towards him, his eyes never leaving me, taking in every movement I make as I advance on him. When I get right in front of him, I bend down and plant my hands on both sides of his head so he has nowhere to go, forcing him to listen to my every word.
“Your girlfriend is a controlling, manipulative, narcissistic bitch. She’s a big, fat cheater. The only reason she’s with you is that you have a stable income and can provide her with what she wants. She can never love you.Thatis the fucking truth. I hurt you. I get that. I took your money and ran away when all you wanted to do was help me. I get that. I was a bitch; it was fucked up what I did. I will do whatever the hell it takes to apologize to you, day in and day out, for the rest of my life. I don’t expect you to take me back because that would just be selfish of me.Thatis the fucking truth. Those drugs aren’t mine at all. I have nothing to do with them. You can be mad at me all you fucking want and treat me like shit for what I did to you. I deserve that. I get that I deserve that. But I don’t deserve to be accused of shit I have absolutely nothing to do with.”
Owen hasn’t moved as I talk, but when I’m done and about to push myself away from him, he grabs at me. His fingers latch in my hair, and he lingers for a long moment, making our eyes connect. Finally, he lets go of my head, and I pull back.
“Fine,” I say with a heavy shrug. “Whatever you guys want. I’ll go to stupid rehab again, but I’m telling you, I had fucking nothing to do with it.”
I look at Tris, who’s watching me with crossed arms.
“It isn’t mine,” I repeat, but I’m defeated now. I have no energy to keep fighting this. “I’m not going to relapse or holding for anyone, I promise. If this was ten months ago, I would’ve considered it. I had nothing to lose then. I have everything to lose now,” I look around at all of them hopelessly. “So why would I throw everything away now?”
“Can you prove it to us?” Tris asks and holds out her arm, palm up, a little plastic sealed cup sitting on her palm.
I stare at it. I’ve done enough piss tests to know what it’s for. I step up to her and take it from her, holding it up to my parents to see, and then make my way to the downstairs bathroom.
Chapter46
Colton
“She’s been in there a really long time,” Gracie's mother comments, fidgeting in her chair, fingers curled around her pant legs.
Mrs. Walker looks exhausted. Dark circles tug her eyes down, and there’s basically no color in her face. I can’t help but admire her, though. Not in a weird way. Just in the way that makes me see what Gracie’s going to look like at an older age, and I like it. I’ve seen the photos around the house. Quite a few girls in this family look exactly like the woman I’m staring at. The one I assume is Gracie’s older sister and her daughter and then Gracie herself. I can’t stop imagining having a daughter with Gracie and her being another replica of this family line.
I don’t know why that excites me. I’ve never thought of settling down, but I haven’t been able to get the damn images out of my mind since I met Gracie. Most people would say that’s love and our souls connecting. I don’t know if I believe that sort of crap, but something is happening when I close my eyes and see us getting married, having children, and growing old together.
I don’t believe she’s back on drugs. I’ve seen how people act on drugs, and Gracie hasn’t. Plus, I really think she’s just been trying to figure life out entirely, not relapsing. How can I know, though? Everybody here knows her, has known her for so long. If they think she’s relapsed, maybe I’m wrong then.
Still, I feel like Devon’s struggling. Sitting next to him, I can feel the tension riddling his body. He wants to believe the same as I do, but his history is far greater than to allow him to do so. He knows the truth about her and has seen firsthand when she falls.
I look over and see him clenching his hands in his lap. Hesitantly, I reach out and place my palm on top of his fist. Devon tenses and looks down, his eyes flashing to mine. He swallows nervously and glances at the hallway where Gracie had disappeared to pee in the cup. He stares at the dark entryway for a moment and finally peels his fingers out from his fist before turning his palm over and clasping mine. I squeeze gently, trying to assure him.
“Heidi,” Gracie’s father starts, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight to him, “everything’s going to be okay.”
When I look at them, I see desperation. I see the love they have for their youngest, shoulders drooped. They so badly want to believe the same thing as me, but they know better. I guess they’ve watched more firsthand than even Devon and Owen, which means they know the signs better. They know what to expect and where or how to look for the signs. They want to believe they aren’t about to lose their daughter again. I can’t imagine what must be going through their minds. I never want to be put in their position, watching my own daughter turn into a stranger and then have her finally come back, only to have the possibility of losing her all over again.
The return of Gracie catches all of our attention. Neither Devon nor I move our hands at her presence. I honestly don’t think she’ll care. If anything, I suspect she’s going to be happy to see us… what, getting along? If I’m going to have to share Gracie with him, hey, I might as well get something out of it too. Devon is good-looking, with a strong jaw and muscles lining his arms. My parents would never approve simply because he’s a man, but fuck, I’m lucky to have both together.
Gracie rounds the couch and sits the cup of pee on the table, tightly sealed and dried, telling me she wiped it off or didn’t get pee on it, I don’t know. But at least it isn’t getting piss all over the shiny wooden surface.
When she looks up, my heart flips at the sight. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face stained with tears. Her hair is pushed back and wiry as if she’d been running her fingers through it, and I recall how long it had taken her in the bathroom. She must’ve been in there trying to collect herself.
When her eyes meet mine, I know that I’m right. At least, I can feel it in my bones. She hasn’t relapsed, and all she wants is for somebody to believe her. Her bottom lip wobbles, and Gracie draws in a shaky breath, holding her chin up before turning to face her parents.
“There,” she says tiredly and steps to the side, letting her parents have free access to the cup. “Have at it.”
Her sister steps forward, jaw set, as she glowers at Gracie. “Don’t be like that, Gracie—”