Page 151 of For Wrath and Redemption
“I want to be able to do that for the rest of my life, Trouble. I want to travel with you. I want to get my ass kicked in the gym with you. I want to play chess with you. I want to teach our baby to play. I want everything with you, and I’m going to earn it. I swear to God, Claire, I will. Let me.”
My breath hitches as I swallow back a sob. I believe him. I can see it. I want it so badly that it’s a physical ache in my chest.
“Okay.” I nod, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay, Jonah Hendrix. I love you too, so let’s earn it together.”
39
JONAH
Three Months Later
My knee bouncesup and down as I sit in the lobby.
I stare at theWelcome to Tranquil Waterssign on the reception desk while I wait. The first time I stayed here, I laughed at that sign. White lotuses floating on a clear blue stream under a red and purple sunrise, the sloganfrom struggle to strength, your rebirth awaitswritten in flowing script underneath. I thought it was cliché and tacky. I thought it was too much symbolism. I thought it was trying too hard.
Now I might get part of it tattooed on my neck.
I check my watch again, then I check the clock on the wall.
This fucker is late.
I wait ten more minutes, then pull my phone out of my pocket and call him. It starts to ring just as Torren walks through the door. He hits me with a grin.
“Impatient?”
“You’re forty-five minutes late.” I stand, shove my phone back into my pocket, and haul my duffle bag over my shoulder. “I think that warrants a phone call.”
“Sorry. Traffic.”
I shake my head, but I don’t bother fighting the slight upturn of my lips as he pulls me in for a hug, patting my back the way a big brother would.
“Good to see you.” He releases me and looks me over. “You look about a hundred times better than you did last time I picked you up from this place.”
“I’d hope so. I was high when you picked me up last time.”
Torren’s eyes widen. “You dickhead. You were lying to all of us.”
I shrug. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not highnow. It’s going to stick this time.”
“Thank God.” Torren smirks and turns toward the door. “This place is the most expensive treatment center on the West Coast. Wouldn’t want you to have to go through it a third time.”
“Right,” I deadpan. “Thank God.”
“Still surly, huh? Sobriety hasn’t perked you up any?”
Torren climbs into the driver’s seat of my sports car as I slide into the passenger seat. He starts the engine, then waits until I’ve done my seat belt to put the car in drive. I’m glad he’s driving. My head is spinning too much to focus on the road, and since Callie’s accident, he prefers to be behind the wheel whenever possible.
“Sorry.” I release a slow exhale. “I’m nervous.”
Torren hums, and I glance at his profile. I’m grateful he’s not making a bigger deal of this, and he’s not treating me with kid gloves, either. I don’t know which would bother me more.
I just want to feel normal again, but I don’t know what that means anymore. I have to discover it as I go, and that task feels daunting.
I flex my fingers into my thigh.
From struggle to strength. One day at a time.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”
