“You want to talk about it?” Mom asks, taking me over to the small dining table. “Sit down. I’ll make you tea.”
“Tea?” I repeat. My mom’s go-to drink is usually cheap-ass wine.
“Tea. I’m sober, Addison,” she says.
“For how long?” I question, not really believing her. I begged her to get help for years, but she never wanted to be sober.
“I went to rehab, after you left.”
“You didn’t tell me,” I say.
“My problems were never meant to be yours, Addison.” She gives me a pitying look. “Have you seen a doctor?”
I shake my head.
“We’ll go to urgent care.”
I nod. Because as much as I don’t want to see a doctor, I know I need to.
Chapter Seven
When Addison didn’t call me, I called her. Or at least I tried to. I got anumber not connectedmessage. Which is why I came to her room. It didn’t take much to pick the lock. I knew the moment I stepped inside, she wasn’tplanning on coming back. That was confirmed when I opened the wardrobe and found it empty. She left all of her textbooks neatly stacked on the desk. Along with a note with my name on it.
Picking up the paper, I fold it and shove it into my pocket. I’m not reading it. I don’t need to. I know I shouldn’t have fucking touched her. I kill everything I touch. And now I’ve gone and killed the one thing I cared about in this world. Addison.
After changing into workout clothes, I head out for a run. I need to clear my head. I need to figure out how I’m supposed to get through the rest of the year without Addison, because I know she’s gone. I could go after her. I should go after her, but what’s the point? You shouldn’t have to beg someone not to fucking leave you.
I run until my legs burn and my chest aches from exertion. Stopping when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I answer it on the off chance it’s her.
“Hello?”
“What the fuck are you doing out running when you’re recovering from the flu?” my dad’s voice yells over the phone.
“I needed to,” I say through labored breaths.
“You needed to run? Why?”
“Clear my head so I don’t accidentally kill someone,” I tell him.
“What pissed you off today?”
“Nothing,” I grunt.
“Lex, you can either tell me what’s bothering you or you can tell me after I’ve flown down to that fucking school and asked you in person,” he says.
“Addison’s gone.”
“What do you meanshe’s gone?”
“She left. I went to her room. All her shit’s gone and she’s disconnected her phone.”
“So go and find her,” Dad says like it’s that easy. I guess, for my family, it is. For me, it’s not.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not begging someone not to leave me, Papa. If she wants to go, then she can. I’m not chasing her,” I tell him.
