“Drugs, coke, on campus. Coach thinks it may be Axel and the Heighters.”
Rome sat back in his seat and gritted his teeth in frustration. “Fuck. Not this shit again.”
I’d known Rome pretty much my entire life. Hell, he practically lived with my family when we were kids, the multimillionaire oil tycoon’s son camping out on my bedroom floor in my doublewide ’cause his daddy liked to use him as a punch bag. When we were teens, Rome saw my elder brother and me drafted into the crew, and he went nuclear. He was also one of the biggest reasons I got out. He’d refused to sign on for the Tide unless we came as a package deal. The guy changed my life, and he hated Axel.
“And what did you tell him?” Jimmy-Don asked. It was one of the only times I’d seen the big guy serious. No cracking jokes. No stupid comments. He knew this shit was real bad for me. Knew what it could mean for my career… for my life.
“Told him the f**kin’ truth. It’s not Axel. He wouldn’t do this to me. Not here. Not now. He wouldn’t f**k up my dreams when I had them in my sights.”
Jimmy-Don looked across at Rome, who shook his head. “You’re f**kin’ dreaming, eighty-three,” he said flatly, using my jersey number instead of my name. He’d always done that, ever since we were kids.
“Rome, don’t. I can’t hear this shit from you too,” I said as calmly as possible.
“Well, you’re gonna. I’ve known Axel as long as I’ve known you, and your bro’s trouble, Aust.”
“Rome.” I groaned.
“You don’t owe him,” he snapped back.
I sank farther back into the sofa and tipped my head back. “I do.”
“Bullshit! If it weren’t for that dick, you never woulda got roped into the Heighters in the first place!”
“And if it weren’t for that dick, I wouldn’t ’a got out either. I do owe him, man. And he’s got my back, ’til the end. This shit here on campus ain’t him. I’d stake my life on it.”
Rome huffed a disbelieving laugh, but he didn’t speak. The silence between us only brought more tension, so without looking at my two friends, I said, “Can you just leave me the hell alone? I need a minute.”
I listened to them both move, then Rome shut the door with a slam.
I finally dropped my eyes, only to stare at the crimson-carpeted floor.
I knew Rome was only looking out for me, but he couldn’t understand what it was like being so poor you could barely survive each day. He couldn’t understand how a kid could get so hungry he’d raid restaurant trashcans for something to stop the hunger pangs in his stomach. He couldn’t understand when that kid was sick, there were no fancy pills to make him better. There was no health insurance plan that covered drug dealers from the trailer park in the part of town that even God had forgotten about. And he certainly couldn’t understand life within the crew. How once you were in, you were in for life… And he couldn’t understand why I owed Axel everything for getting me the hell out when I was seventeen.
Leaning forward, tears filled my eyes. With my elbows on my knees, I put my head in my hands and whispered out loud, “Axel. Please… please say this shit’s not you…”
Chapter Three
Lexi
“Are you still attending the meetings at college, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Are you still eating right? Still keeping your appointments with Dr. Lund?”
“Daddy! I’ve not missed one appointment! Not one in years. Can we stop raking over this ground every time you call?” I groaned.
My daddy was silent for a while, then spoke in a hushed tone. “Lexi, it’s your senior year. You’ve made the varsity cheer team, which you know is a trigger for you, and the pressure’s only getting more intense academically. And since Daisy passed…” Every muscle in my body instantly tensed. “Well, you can’t blame Momma and me for worrying about you handling it all.”
Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. “I know. But I’m good, Daddy. I promise.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” The line went quiet and my daddy whispered, “I’m so proud of you. That you went out there, fought all your fears, and took back your life. I only wish we could’ve seen you.”
My throat was clogged as I heard the strength of emotion coming from my daddy. I hadn’t heard him like this since the day I’d left hospital. “I understand, Daddy. You have your patients to worry about. They’re more important than watching me cheer.”
He huffed out a small laugh. “They’re important, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m ever as happy as when I watch you cheer. You get that look on your face, the one that tells me your soul is happy. It’s been too long since I saw you like that.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“Call us soon. And remember, we’re always here if you’re having a bad day.”
“Okay. Tell Momma I love her.”
“Stay strong, sweetheart.”
With that, he hung up and, minutes later, I was still gripping my cell. The one that tells me your soul is happy. I hadn’t realized my daddy thought that way. But then again, I didn’t care much about anyone or anything back when the voice had me in its hold. When my days were about counting grams of fat and denying myself food… about striving for perfection—thin and wonderful perfection. It was all about me. It was always about food.
I wasn’t selfish; counseling had taught me that. I was sick and couldn’t see beyond my goal… my… disorder.
I hated thinking about that time. It’s hard for me to remember how it felt, not because of the guilt, but because I may be tempted to go back. That temptation would always be there. There’d always be the chance that I’d fall again. But I’d come so far and it was too hurtful to think of the broken young girl I was back then.
Flopping back on my black, quilted bed, I stared at the patterns in the ceiling of my sorority room, then over to the calendar on my wall.
Over one thousand days had passed.
Four years today.
Four years ago, on this very day, I was announced cured, and my parents gave me permission to attend college. Local, of course. No way were they letting me move to another state where they couldn’t intervene if I relapsed.