Finding It (Losing It, #3)

Telling Bliss about my childhood was both shockingly easy and incredibly difficult.

Over the years, I’d learned how to twist the truth about my past, so that I could participate when friends told childhood stories without giving up my secrets. Like any other role I played, I took liberties. I painted a picture of the cool, rebellious girl with an appetite for adventure. Now I had to break that illusion to reveal the real girl, not cool or rebellious … just lost.

And though it was a hard story to start, it was easy to keep going. I told her about Mr. Ames and my parents. And I told her about how I’d learned to cope and that that only ruined me more in the end.

I told her everything.

Except for Hunt.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. I didn’t know how to talk about him without disintegrating into despair. I couldn’t explain what he’d done to me without explaining how different he’d been, how different I’d been with him. I wasn’t a relationship kind of girl. And maybe Hunt and I hadn’t had a real relationship, but it was the realest thing I’d ever had. Which only served to make me realize even more how twisted I’d let myself get. If I tried to talk about him … I’m not sure what would happen, but the clenching in my stomach told me that I was scared. Scared of falling for him all over again in my mind, only to have to relive hitting bottom.

I kept quiet. Maybe I was ashamed of being fooled. I hoped that was it.

But an inkling in the back of my mind told me that there was something else. Despite being hurt and furious, I didn’t want Bliss to think badly of him.

Man, how fucking crazy was that?

I should tear him to pieces, rake him over the coals, and let Bliss join in. That’s what I should have done.

Bliss said, “You know what you need to do, don’t you Kelsey?”

“Try to outrun my troubles through a dozen different countries?”

It hadn’t been working so far, but maybe twelve was the magic number.

“I think you know how well that’s been working.”

It’s one thing to know something for yourself. It’s worse when everyone else knows it, too.

“Abysmally. What’s your point?”

“You’ve got to face your parents.”

“No. No, Bliss.” The laptop suddenly burned too hot against my legs, and the closet felt too small. “I can’t. I can’t go back there. Not now. Things are … complicated.”

I didn’t know who I was more angry with … Hunt or my father. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing either of them.

“You don’t have to go back. But you spent too long accepting their lies as truth. You need to tell them how wrong they were.”

My heart was beating too fast. I hated that I was so scared of this.

“It won’t change anything. You don’t know my parents.”

“You’re not doing it to change them.”

Damn it. Goddamn it. When the fuck did Bliss’s ramblings start making so much sense?

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“Kelsey, you have to. You can’t hide from it anymore.”

I banged my head against the wall behind me a few more times, furious that she was so right.

“Fine. I guess I don’t have anything to lose anyway. At the very least, it will feel really good to tell them off.”

“You don’t have anything to lose?”

“Not really. I, uh, went a little crazy a few weeks back. Might have given my credit card to a stranger and told him to have at it.”

“Oh my God, Kels. Your dad is going to go ballistic.”

Good. At least then, we could both be pissed.

“I’m sure Dad had the account frozen in no time.”

“But what are you doing for money? Where are you staying?”

“Chillax, babe. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I got a decent chunk of change before ditching all daddy-related items. And my Eurail pass is good through the end of the month.”

Don’t ask me what I was doing at the end of the month. No. Fucking. Clue.

“Then what?” She just had to ask. “How will you get home?”

I’d really grown to despise that word, but for a language as vast and repetitive as English, I’d yet to find a synonym that held the same immeasurable meaning.

“I’m staying here, Bliss. At least for now. I’ve been looking for jobs—”

“You don’t have to do that. Let me talk to Garrick. Between the two of us, we could probably manage to cover a decent portion of your ticket.”

“I can’t—”

“You can stay with us here in Philly for as long as you need. Our apartment is small, but we have a couch that folds out into a bed. It might smell a little mothy. We got it from a used furniture place, but it—”

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