Rachel rests her palm against the side of my neck. “I think you should consider seeing one. It would do you good to talk with a trained professional about the shit you’ve been through.”
Wanting Rachel to drop the subject, I mumble, “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Let me know once you’ve made your decision. I’ll help you find the best therapist in LA.” She hooks her arm through mine, and we move toward the door. “Let’s get something to drink.”
When we step into the hallway, I think to ask, “Where’s your bedroom?”
She gestures to our right. “My room is next to yours, and Lainey’s is opposite mine. Easton’s bedroom is at the end of the hallway.”
As we take the stairs down and head to the kitchen, I struggle to control all the destructive emotions whirling in my heart.
My gaze drifts over Rachel, and once again, the bitter reality of her illness shudders through me.
With a quivering chin, I take a seat on one of the stools by the island and watch as she grabs two glasses from a cupboard and pours soda for both of us.
God, I need more strength to get through everything. Help me to be strong for Rachel.
I clear my throat and hate that there’s nothing else I can do but ask, “How are you holding up?”
Exhaustion and despair tighten her features. “I’m not. A million thoughts are constantly racing through my mind.” She glances in the direction of the stairs, then whispers, “There’s so much I have to get in order. Just thinking about dying is terrifying the living hell out of me.”
When she sits down beside me, I gently rub my palm over her forearm, hoping my touch will give her some comfort. “I’m here. Every step of the way.”
I have no idea how to make things easier for her, but I’ll somehow figure it out. I just have to.
All that matters now is Rachel, Lainey, and Easton.
Chapter 4
Nova
(The Past . . . )
I let out an exhausted sigh as I pack the clean clothes into the closet. After a super long day at work where I had to wrestle the biggest dog I’ve ever seen so we could groom him, every muscle in my body aches.
The Great Dane even managed to drag me halfway down a hallway, and I think I sprained my wrist when I clung to his leash.
God, I wish I could crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
That’s not a possibility, though. I still need to vacuum the living room, make dinner, and clean the kitchen.
Letting out a sigh, I head to the living room, and after making sure the worn carpet is spotless, I rush to the kitchen.
My eyes fly to the clock on the wall, and realizing it’s already past seven, apprehension twists my stomach into an anxious ball.
Please let Trent stay out late tonight.
He hasn’t worked for over two years and spends most of his time hanging out with his friends. For the better part of our relationship, I’ve felt like nothing more than his glorified slave, but leaving him is easier said than done.
After putting some mac and cheese on the stove, I pour myself a glass of water. I’ve only taken a few sips when I hear the front door open.
Instantly, fear tightens my muscles, and the glass slips from my hand, landing with a crash in the sink.
Crap!
I quickly gather all the shards, but as I turn toward the trash can, Trent grabs hold of my arm. “That fucking glass cost money we don’t have.”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
