Recovery

Puck pulled into my driveway, putting the car into park before turning to face me. With a grin on his face, he stated, “It was great seeing you again, Evie.”

I smiled back at him, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Or, I hoped that’s what I was showing, since I was nervous as fuck on the inside. “You, too,” I replied smoothly.

He leaned over and pecked me on the lips for a second before pulling away.

“That’s it?” I joked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m gone for six months, and that’s all I get?”

“Hey, I’d go all the way with you,” he informed me, his hands up in innocence, “but your dad’s watching us.”

My eyes narrowed as I followed my gaze to where Puck’s eyes were focused. And surely enough, there was my dad, watching from the front steps with his arms folded, trying to look as menacing as possible.

“Dickhead,” I muttered with an irritated tone. “Text me later, okay?”

“Definitely,” Puck agreed as I climbed out of the car.

Without saying goodbye, I slammed the door shut and stalked up to my front door, every step increasing the angry adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snapped as soon as I was in his hearing range. I knew my face was bright red with anger and I must have looked more than half-crazy, but I didn’t care.

“Being a good father?” Dad replied like it was obvious. “I was trying to make sure that boy didn’t take advantage of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” I hissed. “I did it just fine after you left, and I can keep it up now. You have no business doing that.”

“Evie,” he started softly, entering the caring-lecture mode that my parents seemed to have mastered while I was away at rehab, “I’m just doing it because I care about you.”

I let out a spiteful laugh as I walked away, crossing my arms in front of my chest defensively. “You don’t care about me,” I told him, my tone venomous. Before continuing, I waited to hear that his footsteps were sounding behind me. Once I confirmed that he was following, I finished, “If you had cared, you would have stayed and worked it out with Mom.”

I swallowed, knowing that wasn’t true. I used that as a cover, and I knew that was the wrong thing to do from my daily therapy sessions. But some habits were hard to break. And I didn’t want to face the reality in front of my dad. Alone, it could be so easy to accept the truth, but confrontations could be hard.

I almost laughed at the thought. Since when was Evelyn Strong afraid of a confrontation?

I was nearly to my room when I felt something grasp onto my arm. A new wave of fury crashed over me as I whipped around to face my father. “Evie, you have no idea why I left or anything that happened. Don’t pretend that you do.”

“Dad, I understand everything.”

“No, you really don’t. And I’ve been trying to talk to you about it, but you never seem to want to listen.”

“What makes you say that?” I retorted sarcastically. “Are you saying I’ve been anything but loving and welcoming to you?”

“Evie…” Dad trailed off warningly before cutting off short. “I just want you to know that I feel you’re acting immaturely. I’m trying to have an adult conversation with you, but I can’t do that if you don’t return the favor.”

I rolled my eyes, which was the final straw for him.

“You know what? Fine. Talk to me when you have enough self-control to hear me out.”

Huffing an exasperated breath, I stormed into my room, slamming the door harshly behind me.

Not even a second after I plopped down on my couch, Garrett waltzed into my room without so much as knocking.

“Whatever happened to privacy?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. Because I wasn’t angry at Garrett. And I knew that directing my anger at people who didn’t deserve it wasn’t healthy.

“Evie, stop kidding around and listen for a second.”

His serious tone caught my attention immediately, and I sat up to listen to him.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and focused his intense gaze on me. “Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do…but I’m suggesting strongly that you talk to Dad and hear what he has to say. Do you think you can do that?”

Memories rushed back from my childhood, plaguing my mind’s eye with images of pain and hurt. Drawing in a deep, slightly shuddered breath, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

“No reason,” he tried to lie, but I cut him off with a cocked eyebrow. It only took a second of him taking in my face to sigh loudly and admit, “Alright, fine. I spoke to him already. And I understand everything now.”

“But you were always glad he was back,” I argued.

“I tried to be happy for you because I thought it was what you needed,” he whispered, slightly embarrassed. “But I was angry, too. How could I not be angry at my father for leaving his family behind?”

I kept silent, analyzing the hurt in my brother’s eyes.

“Anyway, we had a long talk about a month after you left. That was how long it took me to tolerate him enough to stay in the same room for more than ten minutes. And I’m really glad that the two of us talked.”

I gnawed on my lip for a second before letting out a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” he smiled, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. “I’ll catch you later, okay? I’m gonna head out to a party now.”

“Going to get ridiculously shitfaced?” I joked.

“Until I get laid,” he responded back with a teasing tone. “Goodnight, little sister.”

“’Night, Gar’.”

He disappeared out the door, shutting the door forcefully behind him.

Groaning softly, I lied down on my back and stared at my textured ceiling, debating what Garret suggested.

Part of me wanted to get it over with, but I couldn’t suppress the majority of my brain, which kept telling me about how hurt I could get, how I could end up right back where I started before rehab. Or even worse than I had been.

I was nowhere near close to making a decision when I finally sighed, giving up. After all, there was no reason to rush my choice. I wanted to make sure that I made the right one.

Just then, my phone went off, a simple vibration replacing the old Madonna tune.

hey was all it said. From Puck, of course.

Hi, I responded, tempted to put a smiley face, but holding out, since he hadn’t used one.

you okay?

I stared at the two little words, knowing what an impact they could have. And I was tempted to spill the entire argument.

But as far as he knew, I’d just come back from rehab. I was supposed to be better, all my troubles evaporated. And I definitely didn’t want to worry him that I’d relapse.

So instead, I responded I’m great, thanks. You? :)