Page 115 of Heartbreaker

Because Jade’s the rule, not the exception. I’ve hurt Banks and Atlas, Dash and Briar. I’ve even hurt Frankie. Not with sharp words, but by avoiding her and pulling back and throwing up walls.

And with Jade…

I didallof that.

So, I need to figure out my head, need to find a way to let go of…all the negativity.

Yes, my life took a turn. Yes, Amber is knocked up by Tony Blackthorn. Yes, I’ve been kicked out of the band I founded, that I helped make a success with blood, sweat, and tears.

But I haven’t been a part of Midnight Sun, not for a couple of years now, have I?

No.

Not since my accident, since I iced them out beyond anything I wasn’t contractually obligated to.

What were they supposed to do? Wait for me forever, when I’ll never be what I was?

Should I have heard the news from Amber?

Of fucking course not.

But when is the last time I’ve taken one of their calls?

I can’t remember.

Which…yeah, I fucked up with them too.

Sighing, I scrub my hands over my face.

I have a lot of work to do, too many relationships to fix, a shit-ton of amends to make. It all seems so big that it’s overwhelming, that I can feel that insidious panic just beneath the surface.

It would be so easy to sink into it, to let the darkness and pain drag me under.

It’s far less scary to be miserable than vulnerable.

My gaze catches on a picture taped to the fridge—the drawing that Frankie did at preschool. It’s simple, messy squiggles that form stick people: Frankie, Briar, Atlas, Dash, Aspen, Banks, me and…

Jade.

She’s a part of our family.

Myfamily.

And I know that allowing the darkness to swell up and swallow me whole again is untenable.

Because it would mean a life without Jade.

I reach for my phone, and even though I have no way to get to Jade right now, I’m not completely useless. I can take one small step now.

No.Two.

The first is less scary than the second and I take the easy route, opening the health network app and typing out a message to my doctor—asking for the referral of physical therapy he’s offered at every appointment since the accident.

I don’t know if it’ll help my hand get any better, if I’ve truly plateaued, like I’ve been told, like I’ve been telling myself.

But I’m going to try, going to put the work in.

I finish the message. Hit send.

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