Brave Enough by Kati Gardner

Author:Kati Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Social Themes / Disabilities & Special Needs / Health & Daily Living / Diseases, Illnesses & Injuries / Performing Arts / Dance
Publisher: North Star Editions
Published: 2018-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Waking up every morning to the deep, raw thirst for a high hurt more than any tumor or surgery ever had. Davis moved slowly, his ribs still bruised, his stitches finally removed, but the skin still so newly healed that it itched and burned with each movement.

And if he could just get high, none of it would matter.

His hands gripped his hair, pulling just enough to cause pain and distract him from the ache in the back of his throat that just wanted him to use.

“Good morning.” His mom knocked and entered. She wasn’t overly cheerful like usual, instead she had puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you today?”

Davis squeezed his eyes shut. He was not ready to deal with his supportive and attentive mother, who had held his hand through rounds of chemotherapy and through intake into rehab. But right now, he wanted her to leave his room and maybe never talk to him again. If he had to see her, see the effort she had put into him, he would begin to feel guilty for his almost unquenchable desire to use.

“No.” His voice was gravel and dust. “I need to do this alone.”

“I’m going to go see Natalie and Cason this afternoon. Do you want to come?”

The question hurt his head even more. His chest burned and a flash of heat filled his belly. No, he didn’t want to see Cason. He didn’t want to think about her. Thinking about her only served as a reminder of the fact that he had ignored Alexis and her plea for help because of Cason.

Alexis might still be alive if . . . if.

God, he just wanted to get high.

But he did still want to see Cason.

“I’ll see how I feel after the funeral.”

“She’s going to need friends. Has Mari been by to see her?”

Davis really needed his mother to stop asking him questions. To stop pushing. To stop.

“I think so,” he managed. “I need to get dressed.”

Amanda held his cheek. The warmth of her hand, more familiar than his own in some ways, filled him. Her touch had always been comfort. Warmth. Love. That’s what his mom was. And he hated her for it. “Davis, you did everything you could for her.”

He didn’t say anything. He wanted to scream that he obviously hadn’t, because she was dead.

“I’ll call you after the funeral.”

“Okay,” Amanda conceded. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and love and comfort rubbed his nerves like sandpaper on a sunburn.

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