Page 9 of Into the Woods

I’d come to Paris with Mom for Christmas because she’d needed a break. But when we’d arrived, she’d sat me down and told me that she planned to live here permanently, and she wanted me to stay. If not for college, then at least for the immediate future.

It took a lot of soul-searching, but I’d finally realized that her reasons for needing a fresh start were why I needed one, too. At least a temporary one, and since I’d been a total nerd who devoted all her time to classes and studying—the byproducts of being a bullied adolescent at a private boarding school—I’d done enough work to be done with high school. Since I was already of age, I filled out the necessary paperwork and graduated six months early.

Staying in Paris for a few months meant I could sort some shit out before diving into college in the fall as a freshman. I’d already decided I wanted to be pre-med, following in my mom’s footsteps. But where she’d focused on private practice and then built a career as a private concierge doctor to the elite, I wanted to focus on oncology. Specifically pediatric oncology.

As if sensing my thoughts, Mémé fixed me with a look. “I do wish you’d reconsider your decision, bébé.”

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head. “I know, Mémé, but I want to help kids the way I was helped.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat. “Not everyone will have the outcome you did, Rebecca. Can your heart handle that?”

She was right. I’d first been diagnosed with leukemia as an infant. But I was told I’d beaten that easily.

It was when the disease resurfaced when I was nine that it became hell. I’d gone through ten brutal months of treatments and chemo. For the longest time, I’d thought that was what had broken my parents’ marriage; that my sickness and the stress of keeping me alive had destroyed their relationship.

It wasn’t until recently that I’d learned it wasn’t my cancer that had destroyed it at all; it was my dad and the decisions he’d made back then, including almost getting me killed.

I wished I could remember, but that time in my life was shrouded in confusion. I’d done some research, and apparently there was a thing called dissociative amnesia where the brain essentially blocked out traumatic events.

Shoving those thoughts away before I spiraled, I focused on my grandmother while twisting a lock of dark hair streaked with faded teal around one finger. I needed to redo the color. Or change it. “I want to help people.”

Her face fell a bit, but she reached over and patted my hand. “Of course you do. You are like your mother in that way.” Her blue eyes hardened. “And unlike your father, damn his soul.”

“Mémé.” I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to defend my dad. Especially not since he’d made a few half-hearted attempts to reach out to me but then seemed to give up. I hadn’t heard from him since he’d sent a simple Merry Christmas text five weeks ago.

The past six months had been crazy, and I needed a break.

My phone rang, and I pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans and grinned when I saw it was a video chat request from my bestie. I looked at my grandmother, but she was already taking her crochet project from the small basket beside her chair.

I hurried from the room and detoured through the kitchen as I answered the call. “Hey, girl!”

Maddie grinned at me, her blonde hair a mess of loose waves around her face. “Bex! Have I mentioned how much I hate that you’re on the other side of the planet?”

“Only every day,” I drawled with a laugh, opening one of the industrial-size refrigerators and snagging a tangerine. After I closed the door, I started jogging up the back staircase toward my bedroom.

“You left me all alone with these four,” she whined, the camera jostling as she hurled herself onto the couch.

I chuckled. “Well, you’re the one who asked them to move in. You and Ryan could’ve had your own place…”

“With all the sex in all the rooms anytime I wanted,” she agreed with a wistful sigh. “Instead, I have to stick to our bedroom, unless I know for a fact the guys will be out for a while.”

“Hussy,” I teased, entering my bedroom. I kicked the door shut with my foot and beelined for the giant beanbag chair in the corner by my bookshelf. It easily could’ve fit three people, and the ultra-plush faux-mink fur was the softest thing I’d ever touched.

She ducked her head. “Guilty, but my husband is seriously talented with—”

“Lalala!” I started singing loudly, not all that interested in hearing about her sexcapades with her super-hot husband.

“Fine,” she huffed, “but you know I couldn’t leave them behind. They’re like a matching set, and I wasn’t breaking up the band.”

“That was a lot of metaphors,” I commented, situating the phone so she could still see me before starting to peel the tangerine. The sweet citrus scent made my mouth water.

She waved a dismissive hand, the screen again almost tumbling over. “Whatever. How’s Paris? I already convinced Ryan we need to come visit you for spring break.”

“Paris is…” I glanced out the large window. Beyond it I could see part of the Eiffel Tower. “Paris is what I need.”

Maddie’s face fell a bit. “Not gonna lie, Bex. I was totally hoping you’d say it sucked and you were coming back to California.”

“Not for a few months,” I said, my tone soft. I hated disappointing her. She was my best friend. Hell, she was one of my only friends. I hadn’t been popular in school. Actually, it was the opposite. I’d been the pariah, always on the outside, until Maddie showed up and changed everything.

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