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Oh my God.

Dad let go of my hand and his gaze moved to the blinds over the window. “I’ve failed you.”

His words jarred me. “Dad—you didn’t fail me. This… this was all me. I…did this.” Truer words had never been spoken. Tears rolled down my face. “I did this.”

He shook his head. “Your mother and I, even your brother, knew you drank. We kept telling ourselves that it wasn’t that bad. That you weren’t like me. That you wouldn’t become like me. We were wrong.” His gaze shifted to mine, and I saw that his stare was glassy. “I was wrong, but I will not let you become me.”

The pressure was increasing, and it was becoming hard to breathe. In the background, I could hear the beeps from the heart monitor increasing. It wasn’t just the drinking, I wanted to scream at him, but there were no words.

“And that’s why we’re stepping in right now,” he continued doggedly. “As soon as you’re well enough to leave the hospital, you’re going into treatment. That’s not up for discussion. If you say no or you fight me on this—” His voice cracked, and my shoulders shook. “I will completely cut you off.”

I could barely breathe. Not because my family was forcing me into treatment. Not because all choice had been stripped away from me. No. I could barely get enough air into my lungs because I had made such a reckless, irresponsible decision. Not just one, but years’ worth of them, and they all had been building and piling up on one another. I could’ve hurt someone—killed them. This was no longer just about me. This…this was out of control.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

I completely understood.

Before I’d left the bar, I had realized that I needed to change, and now more than ever I knew this. I wasn’t going to fight this. Not now. I met my father’s blue eyes and then his face blurred.

“Dad…” The tears rushed me, heedless of the sting they caused when they hit the incredibly raw splotches on my face. “There’s something really wrong with me.”

“I’m really proud of you.”

My gaze shifted away from where Syd was perched on the edge of my bed. It was a day after I’d woken up in the hospital. I still hurt something fierce. “You shouldn’t…be proud of me.”

“Why not?”

I stared at the ceiling. “I drank and then I drove. I could’ve…” Absolutely disgusted with myself, I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

“I’m not proud that you did that,” she said. “But I’m proud that you’re getting help.”

Closing my eyes, I sort of wished I was asleep. “It was my dad’s idea.”

“You could’ve fought it.”

“He threatened to cut me off if I did,” I told her, also wishing I had another blanket. It was chilly in there. “You know me. I like all my perks. Can’t have that—”

“Knock it off,” Syd snapped, drawing my attention. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “I talked to your dad. You didn’t even try to fight it. Not one second. You know you need help. I’m proud that you’re making that decision, so why are you acting this way?”

Why? Because I didn’t deserve her kind words, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve anyone to be proud of me. “I drank and I drove. I totaled my car. I don’t…have a spleen anymore. I’m a loser. I’m going to have to go to court and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my license. I’m not complaining. I deserve that.”

My ass actually deserved to be in jail, and who knew, I might just end up there.

“Andrea…” She sighed as she tilted her head. A long length of dark hair fell over her shoulder. “You’re not a loser. You—”

“I need help. I know.” The wall I’d erected since my father left crumbled a smidgen. “I know.”

Her lower lip trembled as she patted my hand. “When Tanner called and told us what’d happened, I thought my heart had stopped.”

Tanner.

Now my heart stopped. This morning when my brother stopped by, he’d told me he’d seen Tanner the night I was brought in. At first, I’d thought that Tanner had responded to the accident, but Brody had ended up talking to him. Tanner had heard the call go out, but didn’t realize until later that it had been me. When he had, he’d come straight to the hospital.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, her voice wavering.

I squeezed my eyes shut again.

Several moments passed. “Kyler would’ve come with me, but I figured you probably didn’t want a whole party in here.” She paused. “Tanner wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” I said immediately.

“He is so—”

“I can’t.” I looked at her then. “Please. I can’t see him right now. I don’t want to see him right now. I can’t…I can’t deal with that.”

It was bad enough that Tanner had already been there. According to Brody, he’d actually been in this room while I’d been asleep. Embarrassment and hopelessness were an ugly, dark mixture inside me. Seeing him would break me, and I was barely holding it together. I knew I had disappointed my family. Severely. And even though Syd said she was proud of me, I knew she was also dismayed.

Syd smiled weakly. “Okay. I can respect that. I know he will.”

And he would. Tanner was a good guy. He wouldn’t push it. If Syd told him I didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t show. Now more than ever I knew I wasn’t…I wasn’t worthy of someone like him. I was pretty sure my actions put me in the lowest of the low, like pond scum. Except pond scum probably had a purpose, and what was my purpose? To screw stuff up?

If so, I was exceeding expectations.

The morning I was discharged from the hospital, it was so hot that I swore I saw steam wafting off the asphalt. It was a typical August morning, except nothing was normal about that day.

I wasn’t sure if anything would be normal again.

Only my dad and mom were present as I was wheeled out. No balloons or smiling faces. There really wasn’t anything to celebrate, and I wasn’t going home. I guessed it was a good thing I hadn’t gotten a pet.

Getting into the backseat was harder than I thought since my tummy was still sore. On the seat beside me was my suitcase. Mom had packed for me. We wouldn’t even be stopping at my apartment.

The ride to the treatment center was quiet, and I was okay with that. I didn’t want to make small talk, to pretend that everything was okay. And I don’t think my parents wanted to pretend either.

The center was outside the city, near Frederick, and in the middle of a long stretch of nothing. We took an exit I’d never even paid attention to before in any of my travels, and it took a good twenty minutes before the car hung a right. We passed a large sign with the words THE BROOK inscribed in the stone.

My first impression of the treatment center when we crested a hill was that my dad got the place wrong. This didn’t look like a rehab. Oh hell no. With the rolling, manicured hills surrounding a massive, rancher-style complex, the visible tennis court, and what appeared to be a pool the size of a house, it screamed country club and not rock bottom.

Dad followed the road up and under a large awning. The entry reminded me of a hotel. Taking a deep breath, I glanced at my dad. His gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. He nodded, and I suddenly wanted to cry—wanted to throw myself on the seat and not move. But Mom climbed out of the car and opened the back door. There would be no throwing myself on the seat.

I eased out of the car, my wide eyes focused on the glass doors. My heart was pounding. Mom reached between us, threading her fingers through mine. I shuffled forward, my steps slow as my father joined us, my suitcase in his hand.

Cool air greeted us as we stepped inside a large atrium. Up ahead was a reception desk, again reminding me of a hotel. My father walked forward, stopping to speak with the woman.