Page 49 of Heal For Me

“Just not my choice to date my coach.” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“No.” He huffs. “Besides that.”

He can say whatever he wants, but I think deep down he actually likes Ash, and I could see them eventually becoming friends. Way, way deep down.

Blue Gate is huge. At least triple the size of Bayshore High. You wouldn’t think this is where suicidal people, like myself, come to get help. I didn’t do a ton of research on the place, but enough to know it’s very discreet with everything. Extensive therapy and addiction rehab are just two of the several services offered.

White spackle walls, arched doorways and windows, and red terracotta roofing tiles give it the feel of a vacation destination. The grass around it is the greenest I’ve seen since we got here, and the landscaping is immaculate. I can’t imagine what price Jethro is paying to have me stay here.

A large Blue Gate Help Center sign greets us in the middle of the half-circle driveway. The driver pulls up right in front.

My stomach has been in knots since we left the bakery, and it tightens when the driver pulls my door open. The hot California air is a harsh contrast to the cool of the AC, but it doesn’t stop my shivers.

Janelle wraps her thin arm around my center and presses a kiss to my cheek. “It’ll be good, Pay. I can feel it.”

Glad she can, because the only thing I can feel right now is my cupcake threatening to come back up.

Jethro steps in front of me and levels his stare. I straighten and answer his unasked question with a nod. Gently he helps me from the car and steadies me.

“It’s not too late to turn around,” he mutters, but I simply shake my head.

I’m not just doing this for me. I’m doing this for everyone I love. I’ve not been the best version of myself, well, ever, and it’s time I am.

23

Payson

The beauty from outside doesn’t stop when you walk in the doors. It’s as light and breezy in here as it is out there. I half expected it to be like a prison on the inside—they invite you in with the landscaping and boom, bars on windows inside. Sorta like juvie, but it’s not. Long open hallways with windows on each side allowing a nice breeze to fill the room around us. It even smells good, like lemons. A large front desk greets us with two smiley workers sitting behind it.

“You must be the Gilberts,” the woman says as we walk forward.

I look up to Jethro, letting him take the lead.

“Yes, Payson Gilbert.” He shoots me a look like he’s waiting for a reaction, but I don’t give it. Using his last name keeps my business even more private because Payson Gilbert doesn’t actually exist. Fine by me.

“Thought so,” she says before typing on her computer. “You already filled out the forms, so we don’t need to do anything there. If you give me one second, I will call someone down to show you around.”

“Thank you.”

We step away to give her space to do her job, Janelle hooks her arm in mine and leans close. “Isn’t this place gorgeous?”

“Yeah, you’d never know it’s a place for people with issues.”

Jethro grunts. “Sometimes people just need a break in life, that is what this place is for. A break and a new start.”

A new start sounds pretty good, but how achievable is it? How realistic is it to relearn how you think? My way of thinking is when anything bad happens, you slice your body open, will that go away? It’s been muted since waking up, but surely, at some point it would come back full force.

That’s how I deal. That’s how I’ve always dealt with things. I’m sure without people breathing down my neck, and my newest pup keeping my emotions at bay, I’d probably have a few more cuts.

It’s not that I don’t want to think differently, more along the lines of everyone else around me, it’s just hard to believe it’s achievable.

But if I want any chance of a normal life with Ash, I need to do this. He deserves a wife who doesn’t require a suicide watch.

Another worker in the same crisp white uniform steps off the elevators. He looks around and smiles when he sees us. It must be in their contract that they have to smile, or these really are the happiest people on earth. Even the guy who came out to pick up Todd’s bathroom break when we got here had a smile, and I know for a fact that’s not a smiley job. He’s pushing a wheelchair I assume is for me, and normally, I might groan about having to ride in it, but I’m sore. Without any kind of medication, a wheelchair ride sounds good right about now.

“Hi, I’m Freddy.”

I freeze hearing his name. The smile I was forcing falls, and a thin coat of sweat covers my body. Todd nudges my hands with his head until I pet him.

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