“I can go,” Autumn assured me.
“It’s fine. I . . . uh . . . I know a lot of people feel shame about being homeless but my circumstances were different. I chose it. No one else I met chose it. I know people would argue that drug addicts, alcoholics, they all indirectly chose it, but you can’t say that. No one knows what it’s like for them. I know the people that I spoke to . . . well, if they’d had it in them to fight their addictions, they wouldn’t be on the streets.” I flushed a little, realizing I’d gone off topic. “Anyway, I, uh . . . I ate cheap. I tried to eat breakfast every day, although there were some days I didn’t. But mostly I ate breakfast. It was usually a banana and a bacon roll. The banana for protein and the bacon roll filled me up. And it was cheap. Lunch was sporadic. Some days I’d have one, other days not. Usually it would be a sandwich that was going off that day so it was on sale. Tuna, chicken, whatever they had. Most of the time, I waited to have an early dinner instead. Fish and chips mostly. Burger. Fries. Fast food stuff. Cheap. But,” and here was where I admitted how I’d fallen down, “I couldn’t stomach it in the last few weeks. That stuff is filled with grease and I . . . it started to nauseate me.”
Brenna frowned. “Is that when you began to really notice weight loss?”
“Yeah. I mean, I was losing a little because when I wasn’t busking, I walked. I backpacked through Europe so that’s when I noticed my jeans were getting a little loose. But yeah, I guess the last few months it changed from turning fat to muscle to dropping a dress size.”
“And drinking habits?”
“No alcohol,” I said immediately. “I needed my wits about me, which meant no being drunk and no spending money on unnecessary shit. I drank water. Nothing else.”
“And did you get plenty of water?”
“A couple of liters a day. It was all I could afford.”
“Better than nothing.” She nodded, her gaze direct as she put her mug on the counter. “It’s not too bad, actually. I think that you’re small-boned with high cheekbones anyway, so any weight loss like this is going to look worse than it is.”
“I . . .” I stumbled, pondering whether I should admit this or not. But it was playing on my mind so . . .”I missed my period this month. And I’m definitely not pregnant.”
Autumn tensed beside me.
Brenna nodded. “Okay, that’s not unusual and it’s actually more likely to do with malnutrition. It might even be stress related. You’ve been through a lot. Autumn said you have a health-check appointment, so be sure to mention it and also that you’re seeing a nutritionist. Once we get the nutrients that you need back into your body, we’ll see if everything returns to normal.”
“I’ll get my period back?”
“That’s the hope.” She pulled a folder out of the bag she’d brought with her and flipped it open. “So, I have a few questions.” From there she asked me about my weight history, current and past medical history, family medical history, food allergies or intolerances, my likes and dislikes, my eating, sleeping, and exercise habits, past weight-loss attempts, and my emotional and social ties to food. I’d never had a problem with my weight before. I had a good metabolism and I was young, so it had never been a concern. Plus, I actually enjoyed eating healthy food. And, I reiterated to her what I had told O’Dea, that to keep up my strength for touring, a healthy diet had been a necessity. Brenna was happy to hear it and even more so when I told her what my diet used to be like.
“Then this should be easier for you than it is for most of my clients. We’re going to dose you up a little more heavily on nutrients to begin with, and some calorie-dense, high-protein foods to get your weight back up. Peanut butter is going to be your new best friend.”
Brenna had also brought a scale with her, connected to an app on her phone, and she’d made me step on it. Not only had she taken my weight, she’d measured me. My BMI was under so she wanted that back up in the healthy zone. She would be measuring and weighing me every week too.
By the time Brenna left, I was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Autumn now had a grocery list in her hand and I’d downed a green smoothie filled with kale, banana, coconut milk, and peanut butter. I didn’t mind the taste, which was good because Brenna made me promise I’d have two smoothies a day on top of the meal plan she’d devised.
“I’ll go out and get all of this,” Autumn said, waving the list at me after we’d said goodbye to Brenna.
I watched as Autumn threw her phone in her purse and grabbed the keys to the apartment. O’Dea had texted her a few times to check on things. Control freak. As his sister prepared to leave, I got this sudden feeling of claustrophobia. It tightened my chest. And suddenly staying here alone felt like a worse idea than going out in public with a bruised-up face. “Hey,” I burst out, “can I come with you?”
She looked surprised. “What about your bruising?”
“You know,” I glanced out of the patio doors to the river outside, “I’m willing to put up with the stares if it means getting a little fresh air. I feel like I’ve been in this apartment forever.”
“Of course. You’re not a prisoner. Hey,” she dug through her purse, “I have my makeup with me.” She pulled out a cosmetics bag that had to take up all the room in her purse. “I can do your makeup if you want. Cover up the bruises?”
Relief washed over me. “I’d like that.”
And that’s how I found myself feeling pampered as Autumn took great joy in doing my makeup. She also twisted my hair into a messy, stylish bun. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The makeup softened my angles so my face somehow looked fuller.
It made me want to cry.
O’Dea’s sister saw the shimmer of wet in my eyes and clutched my shoulder. “You did what you had to do, Skylar. But it’s time to start taking care of yourself again.”
Angry at myself, confused, questioning every decision I’d made in the last eighteen months, I stood. “Let’s go.” It came out harsher than I meant.
We were silent as we left the apartment, Autumn seeming unsure of me now. “It feels weird,” I said, trying to break the awkwardness as we got in the elevator. “I can’t remember O’Dea bringing me here, so I’ve felt like I was floating in a box over the Clyde. It’s weird to be in a building I don’t remember walking into.”
“Killian said you were pretty out of it.”
“You two seem close?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“Well, that’s what happens when you only have each other. My uncle James isn’t the most affectionate man in the world,” she said dryly. “I don’t know how Killian can work for him. I’d have killed him by now.”
“O’Dea works for your uncle?”
“Yeah. Uncle James owns the label.”
That I did not know. “So, O’Dea is in line to take over?”
Autumn sneered, “Only if Killian lives up to James’s exacting standards.”
And suddenly everything made sense. “And I’m betting there’s nothing O’Dea wants more than to run that label one day.”
“And he deserves to. He’s brought in more money for that label in the last five years than anyone. Does my uncle acknowledge that? No. He makes Killian jump through a never-ending cycle of hoops. Nothing my brother does is ever good enough.”
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one whose family was a sore point.
As if he’d heard us talking, O’Dea called Autumn as we stepped out into the fresh air. It was cold but Autumn had her car so I’d only put on a blazer she’d bought me. It was remarkably similar to the one she wore. I sucked in the fresh air, letting the cold breeze wash over me. My skin prickled to delicious life under its crisp caress.
“Everything went great,” Autumn said into her phone as she led me over to a white Range Rover. If I remembered correctly, O’Dea drove a Sport. Autumn’s was the smaller Evoque. Apparently, they were fans.