Page 112 of One More Kiss

“She may be a flight risk,” Asher says a little too quickly.

“A flight risk?” I scoff. “Look at her, she can barely move.” I say gesturing towards her curled form on the bed in the fetal position.

“Maybe it’s protocol?” he suggests.

“I’m going to speak to the doctor,” I say patting my mom’s clammy hand.

“R-r-rehab,” my mom stutters quietly stopping me.

“Rehab? Mom, do you want to go to rehab?” I ask hopeful holding her hand.

Her head shakes violently, the hair at her temples slick with sweat from the withdrawal that’s already taking effect. “Th-they said I d-do-don’t have a ch-choice.”

“Because of your health?” I ask, confused. “They can’t make her go to rehab… can they?” I ask.

“Gen, I think maybe we should talk outside.” Asher says quietly.

“Rehab or p-prison,” she says.

“Prison?” I hiss quietly. Asher runs his hands through his hair.

“Let’s go talk outside,” Asher says with his hand on my arm.

“Did you know about this?” I ask yanking my arm out of his grasp.

“I found out this morning,” he answers softly. “The hospital had to notify her parole officer from the DUI last Spring, and she’s violated her agreement. She can either go to rehab to get help, or she has to go to jail for violating her parole.”

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