Page 66 of Lost Boy

Damn, it’s been cold out. I thought we lived in the South for the warmth, but lately, it feels like the damn North Pole. We even had snow flurries here early this morning when I was down with the horses. I guess it was better than sweating my ass off though, right?

Thanks for the package with all my favorite snacks. My buddies here were pretty dang jealous. I told them it sucked to be them. I’m kidding. I shared. A little. Just not the Kit Kat Bars. Those are mine.

You should see Beauty and Gaston. That horse is so cute—and, yes, I’m a grown-ass man, calling a baby horse cute. I wish you could see them when they run and play together. You’d love it. And, no, I’m still not sorry for naming Beauty’s baby Gaston. I told you, maybe Gaston is just misunderstood. His whole life, everyone kissed his ass. Perhaps deep down, he’s not actually a dick.

I did realize something when Hunter and the guys came to see me last week. Your brother is really scared of horses. And Watson, well, he loves farm animals. I caught him talking to the goats. Link stepped in horse shit with his new sneakers. That wasthe highlight of my week—no, month. You should have seen his face.

Having them here was kind of like when you’re a kid and your school has an open house for your family to see the classroom. Except with my best friends. It should have made me feel like a loser, but honestly, I kind of liked showing them around this place.

You asked if I’m excited to get out of here in three weeks. If you had asked me that back when I was only a few weeks into being here, I would have said hell fucking yes. But now … well, to be honest, I’m scared to leave. Everything here is scheduled. And I guess I’ve sort of grown comfortable with that. It leaves no room for me to fuck anything up. They hold me accountable here. What will happen when I leave? I want to believe I’m strong enough to not slip back into my old ways, but of course it’s in the back of my mind that temptations will be everywhere and that real life will hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh well. Hopefully, I’ll be fine.

I never really said it in the other letters, but I hope you know that you saved my life, Haley. I was so far into my addiction that I stopped caring about hockey, friends, or even myself. Thank you for pulling me from the darkness and waking my ass up.

Now, since I know you’re likely still in the parking lot, go back into the post office and ask for the package that couldn’t fit in your box. And if you did leave the post office … well, guess you’ll have to wait and drive back over another day.

But something tells me you won’t want to wait for this one.

—Cade

P.S. Apparently, your favorite author is a big fan of college hockey and will hook a dude up. Even a dude who contacted her from a rehab facility.

My eyes widen, and I rush back inside, asking the lady behind the desk if there is a package in my name. She gives me an annoyed look but walks to the back to get it. Moments later, she returns, sliding it across the counter.

“Thanks so much. Have a wonderful day!” I smile, unable to hide my excitement.

She says nothing. Just goes back to what she was doing, being the grump ass that she is.

Walking outside, I get in my car this time. Mostly because I’m freezing and I need heat.

I rip the box open, and my eyes fill with tears as I look at the stunning special edition covers of my favorite series that aren’t even due to release until next week. Yet somehow, Cade had them sent to me.

Running my hand over each hardback cover, I literally can’t get over how gorgeous they are. And when I open them, I can’t believe my eyes.

“They are signed?” I squeal to the empty car before checking each of them.

All three are signed by my all-time favorite author.

I sniffle. Cade Huff is so thoughtful at times. Setting the box in my passenger seat, I rest my hand on my growing belly, knowing that before long … I’ll need to tell him about the baby. I mean … if he plans to come back to Brooks, he’s going to know the truth when he sees me. At week fourteen, I popped. Andmaybe to some people, I could put it off as one too many tacos, but to him? No way.

His mother was going to try to talk to Buck—his sponsor who also happens to be the head honcho at his rehab facility—about the best way to go about telling Cade about the baby. It’s a delicate situation, and I just want to handle it with as much grace as I can.

I buckle my seat belt and look over at my box. Already planning my next letter to Cade.

Cade

A group of us lazes around one of the sitting rooms, sprawled out across the chairs and couches to get comfortable. No matter how many of these group meetings I’ve been to, I’m still not relaxed when it comes time to spill my heart out to everyone else in the room.

There are a few of the counselors here I really like. Others … not so much. And those are the ones who seem to stare into my soul while I speak. It’s probably just something they do without realizing it, but it makes my fucking skin crawl. Buck and another guy we all call Kobra—though I have no idea why—never do that. They listen without making it awkward as fuck. And then they move on to the next person. It’s still uncomfortable, but at least it isn’t awkward with a side of fucking cringe sprinkled on top. I also don’t like the ones who wait too long to respond after I’m done talking. Like they want me to add moreor something. I hate looking around uneasily while they digest the shit I said.

Today is Kobra’s turn to lead our discussion. Where we have to share something that weighs heavily on our mind. For some, it’s usually things we did to loved ones in order to feed our addiction. Stealing, lying, things like that. For others, it’s the people we lost due to drugs. And when it comes time for me, I clear my throat, strumming my hands softly on my pant legs and looking toward the floor.

“A while back, I, uh … I was at my dealer’s house.” I stop. “He’s dead now,”I say, not knowing why I felt the need to add that last part. “But there was a couple there. A girl and a guy. They were shooting up.” My throat feels swollen, but I force myself to carry on. “She was so young. And pretty.Reallypretty. And she looked like she was still fresh on her journey with drugs. Her eyes weren’t dead inside yet. It was like … like she was still in there. The drugs hadn’t completely overtaken her.”

I look up at Kobra, and he gives me a reassuring nod.

“I think about that girl all the time. I remember the red Converse on her feet and the zip-up hoodie she was wearing. I wonder where she is now. Is she alive? Did her parents get a phone call, letting them know that she had died?” My jaw tenses, and my heart squeezes inside my chest. “I think about how … if I ever have a daughter, what if she goes down the same path that the girl did? ThatIdid.”

I sit back, feeling my face heat from all the attention on me. I’ve always been one who likes to be the center of attention, but when it comes time for that here, it’s not the same.

---