Page 91 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

“I’m sad too, okay?” he snips but backs up.

“Alright. I’m going to go.”

I blink up at Phoenix, my heart spasming.

Fuck. It’s happening. He’s going to leave, and I’m going to fucking rehab.

Rehab.

Where I have to talk to doctors andbearound doctors. Alone. Just me. I gasp, my throat closing. Phoenix cups my face and kisses my eyes. “You got this, sweetheart. You can do it.”

“I know…I…”

“Wear the socks. They help.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it, I’m going. I’ll be a one-man show,” Michael yells, his suitcase wheels rolling over the concrete as he goes inside.

“I’ll text you every day so that when you can use your phone, you’ll know everything I’m up to.” Phoenix smiles down at me.

I nod. I can’t fucking breathe. My fingers are stiff over his hips, refusing to move. But I need to. This is what I have to do if I want to keep him. Hell, if I want to survive long enough to prove I can to him.

Closing my eyes and pressing a kiss to his chest, I suck back all the noise in my head and feel him once more. His steady breaths, his warmth, his presence. The rest of his band is leaving him, all but Jorge, who watches us with hearts in his eyes.

My phone dings in my pocket, alerting me that my ride is approaching. “Bye, Phoenix,” I rasp and back away from him.

Jorge quickly latches onto his best friend’s arm, slowly inching him away from me. “Good luck, man! You got this. I believe in you.”

I want to acknowledge Jorge, but my eyes are only for Phoenix. He’s crying—weeping for me. “Tell me again,” I call out.

“I love you!”

A nasty, hideous sob crawls up my throat, but I swallow, willing myself to hold it together until he gets inside. He’s walking backward, Jorge tugging him and their suitcases along. “I fucking love you, Elijah!”

They slip through the sliding glass doors, and I watch him disappear behind them. A car horn beeps behind me, startling me so badly that I jump. “Are you Eli?” the driver asks.

I nod, grab my suitcase off the floor, and twist back to the terminal doors again. He’s staring right at me in the check-in line. I wave, he waves, and before I start bawling, I swiftly turn around and get in the car.

Three hours later, I arrived at the facility.

It looks…okay.

I had a good, long cry at Phoenix’s place with my face buried in his pillow until I had no choice but to rip myself up and leave. And now that I’m here, I want to run. Run with my fucking hair on fire, tail tucked between my legs.

I glance down at my shoes, the slip-on Vans revealing half a pizza slice, and steel myself. I didn’t know what I could or couldn’t bring, so I have everything with me. I also stole Phoenix’s leather jacket out of his closet, even though I doubt I can wear it.

I need all the motivation I can get right now.

Eyeballing the neatly trimmed shrubs lining the entrance, I swallow hard. I never thought I’d be doing this in a million years. Fuckingrehab.A huge part of my brain wants to deny I need to be here. Like. I’m not a drug addict. Not really. I’ve always been able to control it. But even as I think that, my fingers itch to pull out my phone and get a hold of a dealer I know is not even twenty minutes away.

Maybe I could lie?

Just go radio silent for a few weeks and then tell Phoenix I did it. He wouldn’t know the difference. No one would. I’d know. Even considering it, I feel immense guilt. No. He’s counting on me.I’mcounting on me. If there’s any chance this will help…that it’ll stop the voices, the screams, and grunts. I have to do this.

Yet my feet stay right where they are. My palms are slicked with sweat as I hold my suitcase handle tightly.

“You okay?” I hear from behind me.

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