Page 110 of How to Be a Rockstar's Girlfriend

I wave away her question. “That doesn’t mean he loves me or is getting sober for me.”

“Just wait. I’m right about this.”

Virginia groans. “Great. She’s going to gloat.”

Indigo smirks. “I am an excellent gloater.”

“Being an excellent gloater is nothing to be proud of.”

I tune Indigo and Virginia’s bickering out. Is Virginia right? Did Gibson agree to go to rehab because he wants to win me back?

A spark of hope lights in my chest but I douse it with a healthy portion of reality. I’ve watched my mom go in and out of rehab for years. There’s no guarantee of success.

But what if Gibson is different? Hope surfaces once more. I try to douse it again but it’s firmly planted in my chest.

Chapter 31

Letter – an ancient method of communication involving pen and paper

Gibson

I groan as I wake and reach for my phone. My hand meets air. I frown as I open my eyes. My frown deepens when I encounter white walls and utilitarian furniture. This is not the house I’m renting with Jett.

Rehab. For a moment there, I forgot I’m in rehab and miles away from Mercy and my bandmates. I scrub a hand down my face. My usual trimmed beard is out of control after a week of not shaving.

One week down. Who knows how many weeks to go. In the meantime, I’m not allowed to phone or message anyone. No social media. No newsletters. No magazines. Thus, the lack of a phone on my dresser.

I didn’t think I was one of those annoying people who is on their phone all the time. I was wrong. I reach for my phone several times an hour. I feel as if I’m missing a limb. I’m cut off from the world and hankering for connection.

I’m desperate to speak to Mercy. To find out how she’s doing. How is she handling being a business owner again? And – most important of all – does she forgive me? Does she still love me? Or does she want nothing to do with me?

Nurse Hannah knocks on the door. “Time for group.”

I smile but my usual charm has no effect on Nurse Hannah. She’s all business as she motions me toward the room where our group sessions are held.

“Oh, great,” Danny says as I enter. “The whiner has arrived.”

“I’m not a whiner.”

Charles snorts. “Because complaining about how you can’t make phone calls for an hour isn’t whining.”

Danny and Charles are the other members of this group session and they pull no punches. I’ll never admit it, but I like both of them. If the circumstances were different, we’d be friends having drinks at a bar.

I scowl at Charles. “I didn’t complain for an hour.”

Danny chuckles. “And I didn’t wet my bed the first night I arrived.”

My nose wrinkles. “Gross. Keep your bed wetting stories to yourself.”

Charles groans. “Great. Now he thinks you’re challenging him.”

“I’m not challenging anyone.”

Danny wriggles his eyebrows. “Did I tell you about the time I—”

I hold up a hand to stop him. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m squeamish when it comes to bodily fluids. Bodily fluids should stay where they belong. Inside the body.

Dr. Stu arrives and joins our merry circle. “Good morning.”

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