Lost King by Piper Lennox (best self help books to read .TXT) 📕

it is, I nod. That’s what all this boils down to: I have to let Ruby handle it how she thinks is best. I need to trust her.

After I carry her luggage to the porch, she kisses me and thanks me again for the trip.

“Stay safe.” I think this is the first time in my life I’ve meant that as more than some generic goodbye. Way more.

“I will.” Slowly, she draws an X across her heart.

We kiss one more time. Ruby laughs against my mouth, when I grab her around the waist to make it last as long as possible.

I pace around my bed again, the fortieth or so time by my count, and dive on my phone when it pings.

Hale: Why?

My heart sinks. I roll onto my back and scroll through the long message I just sent him, wondering how on earth he missed the point.

Ruby: Because you know he’s not going to take it well.

Hale: Of course he won’t. I’m asking, why is that my problem? Or yours?

My defenses go up, but for the first time in years I can’t explain why. My old standby of “he’s our friend” no longer applies.

Hale: Callum is going to do what he wants. We can’t stop him.

Hale: Stop doing this to yourself, Ru.

The phone drops out of my hand and onto my chest.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

I know Hale is right. Theo was right. My instincts are right.

Callum’s life is a mess. He’s made it that way. And the only person who can get him out is himself. It’s not my job, or Hale’s, to soften blows for him.

I pick up the phone and hold it overhead, thumbs poised to type words I don’t have. An apology, maybe, for bothering Hale with this drama yet again, when he’s got his kids and job and own life to worry about. Or a thank you, for this tough but needed reminder.

Before I can start, he sends another message.

Hale: I’ll do my best to keep you safe from him, if it comes to that. God forbid. But I can’t keep him safe from himself. Nobody can.

I stare at the screen until my eyes ache.

Ruby: I know. Thank you.

His typing icon flashes a few times, but vanishes and doesn’t reappear. There probably isn’t much else to say. That’s that.

I open my thread with Callum.

Ruby: Meet me at the rink in 10?

He doesn’t answer, but I get my winter gear back on and drive there anyway. Sure enough, he’s in the parking lot when I pull in, leaning against the hood of his Camry and spitting into a Cherry Coke bottle.

“Hey.” My knees feel like gelatin as I climb out and stand in the empty parking space between us.

“Hey.” He doesn’t look up from the pavement. “Have a nice trip?”

An excuse bubbles on my tongue, but I don’t spare the energy getting it out. Of course he found out. His crew—past and current ones—are all about connections. Info is currency.

“It was fine.” Crossing my arms, I lean against my door and study him. He’s letting his goatee get long, which I always hated. The second it’s past his chin, it gets a wispy quality to it that doesn’t suit his face.

He’s gaunt, of course. A few days can’t change that. But there’s at least some kind of clarity to his eyes, and no sway in his stance. That’s something.

“I’m in N.A.,” he says, as if reading my mind.

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Well...I am. No offense—I think it’s great—it’s just that I’ve never heard you admit to having.... And you hate those recovery groups.”

“Still do.” He glances at me, then admits, “It’s court-ordered.”

Ah. This makes way more sense, even if it’s disappointing.

He jerks his chin towards my car. “I left my phone charger in there. Can I…?”

“Oh…yeah, sure.” While he rifles around in the front seat, I decide I might as well comb the Camry for any random things I’ve left behind. All I find is a Starbucks receipt I crumpled up months ago, plastered to the bottom of a cupholder. Figures. I never left too much stuff in Callum’s car or various apartments, reasoning that I needed to be free to leave at a moment’s notice.

This really was a long, long time coming. So overdue.

“Still,” I offer, when we both surface from the other’s car and pace back to our own, “I’m glad. I think it’ll help you.”

“I don’t need somebody holding my fucking hand through the process. I could kick all this shit on my own if I wanted to.” With a hocking noise that turns my stomach, he gathers his spit and lets it drip into the bottle again.

“Needing help isn’t a weakness,” I tell him, “but I guess you thinking that explains why you’ve been so eager to help me with Theo. You’ve always thought I was weak.”

“You’ve never proven otherwise, babe.” He laughs, the sound like barbs tearing up my organs.

“I’m not weak. You just got me in my weakest moment. Thinking that’s all I was? That was your biggest mistake.”

Callum gets an amused smirk and sweeps his eyes over me, head to toe, like he’s looking at a kid playing dress-up. He looks at me like that a lot.

“If you don’t want my help with that asshole,” he says after a moment, drumming the bottle against his taillight, “then why are you here?”

I tighten my arms, telling myself it’s the cold making me shiver. Not him.

“To tell you it’s over.”

He laughs again. “We already covered this.”

“No. Over, over.” I put my arms down, even though my bones themselves hurt with the effort.