Where There's a Will (Lost Boys, #1)

by Jessie Walker

For those who didn’t make it ’til morning.

Grief was like a fever, she said. I just had to let it run its course. Sweat it out, just sweat it out, baby.

“The sun will always rise again.” I shrug. “You just need to make it through the night. Take it day by day—moment by moment if you need to—until you reach the other side. Nothing lasts forever.”

“She told me, the key to making peace with the dark, was to make peace with myself. She said, as long as I remain honest with myself, I’ll be a lot less scared of the truths the dark may reveal.” I swallow a lump in my throat before continuing on a whisper, “Because in the end, the only thing we have to fear in the dark are the things we run from in the light of day.”

hate you.” If this is hate, baby, I think, licking across his teeth, I don’t know if I’d survive your love.

“One of the first steps in therapy, actually, is accepting that you’ll never be able to erase what happened. Even if you get your revenge, or escape what you couldn’t the first time, or whatever it is you’re after...the trauma will still be there. It’s just a temporary fix. “Because all those little pieces in your head that you’ve been trying to find and fit back together? They’re still there. It’s just that the shapes have changed. They don’t fit like they used to. That picture you had before is gone, and there’s no getting it back.”

“It’s okay, you know?” I say, before I look up through my lashes to find Waylon watching me intently with an expression I can’t place. I clear my throat. “Starting from scratch. Building something new. Despite what our brains are conditioned to believe, what’s broken doesn’t have to stay broken. We can change. We can be whole again.”

“It’s just...it’s hard for me to wrap my head around it. I didn’t know any different growing up. How can you be traumatized from something when it’s all you’ve ever known?” Jesus. Eyes burning—no doubt red around the edges—I force a smile. “Well, that’s why you got the bougee diagnosis.” He laughs wetly. “Just because you didn’t know any different, doesn’t mean it was right,” I tell him after a moment. He takes a deep breath. “I know, it’s just...” “Easier to pretend?” The dejection swimming in his hazel eyes slices me right fucking open. “I hate him. I think I’ve always hated him, but it’s different now.” I nod, understanding what he means, even if I can’t completely relate. “Therapy makes it real.” He doesn’t say anything, just rolls away from me to lay on his back.