Page 63 of Sometimes You Stay

“Okay, so like infomercials?”

“Oh my gosh. How old are you?” She rolled her eyes again and shoved his shoulder as they turned out of the nationalpark onto a two-lane road and toward the center of the island. “Is that what you were watching instead ofHandy Manny?”

“Maybe. My gran liked them.”

“Okay, well, trust me—sponsorships are not your grandmother’s infomercial. If a company wants to sponsor me, I legitimately use their product on a trip. I don’t ham it up on-screen or go crazy. I just use it—maybe a bit more obviously than I normally would—and mention how it made my trip easier or better.”

“What sorts of products?”

“Anything travel related. I’ve done hotel chains and neck pillows and even a village in Spain. Most often I’m asked to do luggage—in fact, the suitcase that I lost was from a sponsor.”

He cringed, but she smiled.

“It was a good suitcase, and I emailed the company last week to see if they’d replace it. It’s already at the inn.”

“Wow. You have a magic wand too?”

“It’s good for them to have their brand rolling through airports and along cobblestone roads in my videos. Even if I don’t mention it by name in every post.”

“Have you ever turned down a sponsor?”

She snorted. “What kind of person do you think I am? Of course!”

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“The internet is a wild place, and people come up with really weird things.” Her cheeks turned pink, and he was a little bit afraid to ask her to unpack that. In the end, she said just enough. “I’ve been asked to promote some things that I don’t feel comfortable with. Things that might altersomeone’s state of consciousness or that I’m not sure are safe.”

Chewing on her thumbnail for a long second, she sighed. “I know it seems like what I do is frivolous. It’s not like I’m training dogs for rescue or therapy, but I do take it seriously.”

“It seems like a lot of people trust you.”

“Something like three million of them.”

He whistled low. That was somehow incredible and also completely understandable. If he was on any of those apps that Justin said his sister was on, he would certainly follow her. And not just because of her gorgeous smile or infectious laugh, but because he already knew the answer to his next question. “And you don’t take that lightly, do you?”

“How could I?” Her words took on an earnestness she didn’t often use. “They saved me.”

Fifteen

Cretia clapped a hand over her mouth, and she couldn’t even blink under Finn’s intense glance.

“Saved you? From what?”

She shook her head hard, wishing the words back where they’d come from. Wishing she could follow right behind them. Back to nothingness. Certainly back to before she’d admitted the truth, spilled it out so casually.

“Cretia? You can tell me. You don’t have to—I won’t—”

Judge her?

He couldn’t promise that until he knew the whole truth. And then it would be more than a little bit hard not to. Everyone did.

If it wasn’t judgment, it was pity. Every time. The school counselors. The man from Child Protective Services. Her teachers. Always with the same look in their eyes. Confusion. Horror.Pity.

God knew she didn’t need it. She’d spent too many years feeling sorry for herself. And she wasn’t going back to that.

She chose every day not to live that life—the one where she was the victim.Andthe one where she turned into hermother. She supposed her mom was a victim in her own right, a victim of her own making and her own mental illness.

Cretia refused to be either, let alone both.

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