Fakers (23 page)

Her heart shattered for her friend. “I love
you too, Stevie. Let me know if you need anything.” Before she’d
even left the room, Stevie was snoring softly.

She went downstairs and outside to unload
her car, but Hale already had it done. He was in the garden,
arranging the different bushes and flowers she’d purchased. Looking
up when she approached, he wiped the sweat off his brow with the
back of his hand. “You picked out some good stuff. Hope you don’t
mind. Couldn’t help myself.”

She walked up to him and kissed him lightly
on the lips, her hand pressed into the muscles of his lower back.
“Thanks for being here today.”

“Thought you could use some help.”

She stepped back and admired his work before
she smiled at him. “It looks good. Does this mean you’re actually
going to help?”

“I guess I don’t have much else to do
today.”

Laughing at his reluctance, she started
toward the car to get the gloves she’d purchased, but Hale caught
her hip and pulled her to his chest. He smelled of dirt and sweat,
a combination that had her stomach fluttering in the best way. He
leaned in and kissed her again. She kissed him back harder,
deepening the kiss and taking control.

“Humph.”

Kyra looked up at the sound. Mrs. Walker
walked by with her goldiepoo on its leash. The dog barked at them,
disapproving, like its master. Kyra blushed. “I think we’re scaring
the neighbors.”

“I bet she got wet just watching.”

“Hale! That’s awful…and really gross to
think about.”

He grinned as he gathered up the shovels and
rakes. It took most of the afternoon to plant all the flowers and
bushes in new topsoil. Hale did the mulching around the newly
cordoned-off flowerbeds while Kyra planted her flowerpots. When
they’d finished the front garden, it looked like a completely
different place; she wouldn’t be the eyesore of the neighborhood
anymore. Well, almost, she thought as she stepped back and shielded
her eyes to look up at the house.

“When do we do the outside?” she asked.

“Whenever you pick out a new color,” Hale
said, mumbling with his back turned to her.

“I heard that.”

“I meant you to.”

“I’m serious, Hale,” she said. “I’m ready
for it to look pretty.”

He grunted and stood. “We redid the
guttering at the beginning when we pressure washed the house. Over
time, the water drainage had rotted some of the scale work at the
top of the house, which we’ve already replaced.” Kyra nodded when
she saw where he was pointing. “So most of the work is done. I
think we’re on track to do the outside next Friday if this storm
doesn’t hit us.”

“Storm?”

“Just a little something building out over
the ocean. Right now they don’t know if it’s going to make
landfall.”

“Oh, well, I hope we can paint. It’s going
to look amazing.” Kyra sighed happily just thinking about it.

“More like Barbie’s Dream House with those
colors you picked out.”

She frowned. “No it won’t. It’ll look
cute
.”

“That’s what I just said.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re
impossible. Anyway,” she said as she stripped off her sweaty
gardening gloves. “Do you and Cade want to come to dinner
tonight?”

“Sure,” Hale called over his shoulder,
dumping the last of the plastic flower containers into the large
dumpster.

“I was going to invite Ethan too. Is that
okay?” Kyra asked, wondering if the doctor would remind Hale and
Cade of bad times.

But he didn’t seem bothered. “That’s fine.
We like Ethan a lot.”

He left shortly after they’d cleaned up to
get a shower and pick up Cade. Kyra went inside to check on Stevie,
who was still sleeping soundly, before she grabbed some clothes for
the evening. To keep from waking her guest, she went to the
downstairs bathroom. Finally, she could get into the repaired
shower without feeling like she had to wash herself at a breakneck
speed.

It was still too early to order the pizza
from Stevie’s favorite place in town, and Cade and Hale wouldn’t be
here for a while. On her way up the stairs, Kyra sent a text to
Ethan with her address. She tucked her phone in her pocket and
headed toward the front bedroom.

It was bright inside, and streams of
sunlight danced over the albums she’d left out. Unlike her back
bedroom, she hadn’t let the painters in here. This room was special
now, and Kyra wanted to keep it exactly as it was. She picked her
way to the window seat and sat down, savoring the warmth from the
window, and resumed looking at the same album she’d left off with
before. The pictures were mostly of her mother at different
middle-school events.

Lila had braces and frizzy hair, but she
still looked beautiful to Kyra. Pictures of school plays and
science projects filled the pages along with Christmases and more
birthdays. Years passed as she flipped through the album, and her
mom slowly transformed, growing up in front of her eyes.

The album had been closed for a long time in
Kyra’s lap when she heard car doors slam in front of her house. She
jolted and looked out the window. Hale and Cade stepped out of the
truck and headed toward the front door. They carried boxes of pizza
and liters of Coke. Realizing she’d completely forgotten about the
dinner, she scrambled out of the room and hurried to her
bedroom.

She knocked softly on the door and peeked
inside. Stevie stirred under the covers and pushed up her sleep
mask. “The guys are here. Sorry, I lost track of time. Come down
whenever you’re ready.”

Stevie mumbled something as Kyra closed the
door. She was heading down the stairs just as the front door opened
and the guys stepped inside. “Thank you so much for getting the
pizza. I completely spaced.”

Hale looked up, watching her come down. “Did
you not get my text?”

“Uh,” Kyra said, taking the pizzas from him.
“No, I guess not.” He shook his head at her with a crooked grin on
his face.

“How is she doing?” Cade asked.

“Good,” Kyra said. “She’s rested all day,
which Ethan said was good.”

Cade nodded, clearly still worried. “Is she
going back to L.A. with her parents?”

Kyra started toward the kitchen with the
guys following her. “No,” she answered quietly. “She’s going to
stay here until she decides on a rehab facility. Her parents might
cut her off, though, for not coming back with them.” She couldn’t
help the anger creeping into her voice; she would never understand
how a parent could do that to their child.

“I cannot believe some people are that
awful,” Cade said, echoing her thoughts.

She set the pizza on the counter. Ethan
arrived not long after, and Cade hurried to help Stevie down the
stairs when they heard the bedroom door open. She limped into the
kitchen and looked around, her hair greasy and her face pale, but
she smiled when she saw everyone.

“Looks like it’s a party now,” she said, but
as soon as the words were out, her face darkened. A party to Stevie
meant wine and vodka. Before she could dwell on it too long, Kyra
scooped up the pizza boxes and paper plates.

“It is!” She said brightly. “So, since I
have no furniture, let’s pretend we actually wanted to sit outside
on my porch and eat. Follow me!”

It wasn’t a very comfortable meal. Stevie
didn’t talk much, and the guys were the only ones who really
carried on a conversation. Kyra tried to chime in every now and
then, but it was hopeless. She didn’t know much about construction
or cars, so she mostly sat beside Stevie and tried to send her
reassuring smiles.

A couple hours later, when they’d eaten
their fill, everyone stood and prepared to leave. Hale helped Kyra
carry the boxes and drinks into the kitchen while Stevie walked
Cade and Ethan to the front door. “She seems okay,” he
commented.

She pulled out some plastic bags and started
putting the leftovers away for Hale’s crew to eat next week. “Yeah,
I think so,” she said.

He walked over and put his arms around her.
“She’ll be okay.” His words were warm and moist against her ear.
She wished she could stay with him tonight, but it wasn’t
appropriate with Stevie recovering in the house.

“I know.”

Hale stepped back and smacked her butt.
“Then stop worrying so much, Miss Know-It-All.”

twenty-two

W
hat about this
one?”

Stevie looked over at Kyra’s computer
screen. “Gross. Too hippie.”

Kyra groaned and banged her forehead against
the keyboard. “You’ve said that about the last few we’ve looked
at.”

“Hey,” Stevie said, shrugging. “If I’m going
to rehab, I don’t want to smell body odor all day.”

“Hippies take showers.” Kyra shook her head
and tried to focus, her eyes were getting blurry. “Wait, that’s not
the point. This looks like a good place.”

Stevie wrinkled her nose. “Next.”

They’d spent their Sunday morning in Kyra’s
bedroom, sorting through rehab choices. Stevie turned them all down
until they come to one that was simply called The Lodge. “And it’s
nearby,” Kyra added as Stevie looked over the website. “I could
come visit you.”

“It looks tolerable,” Stevie said with a
sigh, handing the laptop back to Kyra.

It actually looked more than tolerable. It
was a huge estate with a lake, stables, and tennis courts. The
house itself was a giant log mansion with lots of windows and sunny
rooms. Stevie wouldn’t be bored for a minute.

“Okay, let’s go with this one then,” Kyra
said, trying to be cheerful. Stevie was slumped against the wall,
picking at her fingernails. “Stevie?”

She looked up. “Yeah, sorry. Let’s do
it.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just bummed, I guess. I wish I could spend
the rest of the summer with you.” She looked out the window, where
the sound of kids’ laughter and the ocean waves poured in. Everyone
was outside enjoying their weekend. “I just wish…I didn’t have a
problem. No, I just wish it wasn’t a problem.”

Kyra knew what Stevie was thinking, because
she’d often thought the same thing about her depression. Stevie
thought something was wrong with her on a fundamental level, as if
she was a weaker human because alcohol did this to her. There were
no words to comfort her friend, to convince her that she wasn’t a
bad person.

Except just being honest.

“I used to cut myself,” Kyra said quietly.
“In high school and college. Actually, that’s a lie.” She raked her
hand through her hair. She had Stevie’s full attention now. “I’ve
done it more recently than college. Sometimes I can’t stop myself
because it’s all I can think about.” She went on, even though
Stevie looked shocked. “It helped me…handle things. The pain masked
the bad emotions. It numbed me so that I stopped feeling…so much.
It was a relief. Or at least, I thought it was, before I started
going to a therapist a year ago. Now I understand that it’s not
healthy, but I’ve regressed a couple times.”

“Being drunk was like that.” Stevie leaned
forward, her eyes on Kyra. “It was armor for me. Nothing could get
inside and hurt me when I was drunk.”

“Except yourself.”

The silence stretched out between them.
Stevie was the first to break it. “When was the last time you
cut?”

Kyra took a deep breath. She could lie, but
her friend deserved better. “Not since I’ve been here, but I’ve
thought about it. Sometimes it feels nearly impossible not to give
in.” Even now, her eyes drifted to her bathroom, where her blade
sat tucked deeply into the shadows of her medicine cabinet.

She thought for only a second before she
started pulling off the bracelets. One by one, the thick woven ones
came off, followed by the dangly pretty ones that she’d made
herself. She never took them off, so it was a struggle to wiggle
her wrist out. Underneath, row after row, were narrow, straight
scars. They were tiny and deep and so close to each other that they
looked like one continuous scar of white, tortured flesh.

“Kyra,” Stevie whispered.

“We’re not broken, Stevie,” Kyra said. “We
just cope the best way we know how, but it’s not the best way,
because it hurts us. So we have to learn a new way, a better way.
Because we deserve the happiness we fake.”

They were silent for a long time, staring at
Kyra’s wrist, until one by one, Stevie handed Kyra’s bracelets back
to her so that she could put them all back in place, masking her
marks. “You need a better way too,” Stevie finally said.

“I know. My therapist and I were working on
it when I moved down here.”

“Do you have a therapist here that you can
talk to? Or maybe, like, medication to take or something?” Stevie
asked, fumbling with the words.

“I haven’t called anyone down here yet. I
thought…well, I thought this place would fix me.” Kyra considered
her lack of closure, even after spending the week visiting her
mother’s grave. If she didn’t lie to herself, she knew she needed
to call a therapist. Soon.

“Shit, Kyra.” Stevie dropped her head into
her hands.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you could come with me?” She looked
up, bright with the idea. Her eyes were wide and excited, like
she’d just found the solution.

“You need to focus on you right now. I’ll
distract you,” Kyra said, but it was a bad lie. If she was a
stronger person, she would be going to rehab with Stevie. “I’ll
just look up a therapist.”

Stevie’s face fell. “Well, okay. That’s
good.”

Kyra stood up, stretching. “Come on. We need
to call The Lodge.” She grabbed her phone off her bed, noticing she
had yet another call from Aunt Carol, and put in the number for the
facility. She offered it to Stevie.

“Great,” Stevie mumbled. “Here we go.”

To give her privacy, Kyra left the room. She
went downstairs slowly, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist as
she went. She’d gotten lucky since she’d moved here—nothing had
triggered her to want to cut. Being around Stevie and Hale helped,
but that couldn’t last forever. She needed to find someone to talk
to before she lost it.