The Truth of Letting Go Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Copyright © 2017 Amy Sparling

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition December 2017

  AISN: B0765L2YQL

  ISBN-13: 978-1977984661

  ISBN-10: 1977984665

  Cover design by Amy Sparling

  Cover image from Shutterstock

  Typography from CreativeFabrica

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  The Truth of Letting Go

  The summer before senior year, Lilah Monroe’s parents take a nine-day trip, leaving her as the guardian of her bipolar cousin, Cece. When Cece’s parents died tragically five years ago, she and her brother moved in with Lilah. Her brother soon went missing and was presumed dead.

  Lilah and Cece couldn’t be more different. They used to be best friends, but high school has changed them both. Lilah likes order, schedules, and a tidy room. She has plans for her future and won’t let anything derail it, not even Cece whose life is constantly on the edge of chaos. Cece is messy, erratic and sensitive. She also has a reason to believe that her brother is still alive. Despite Lilah’s reservations, Cece tracks down an old friend who believes her theories. Ezra happens to have gotten really handsome since Lilah last saw him. Too bad they never really got along when they were kids.

  Knowing the odds are stacked against them, Lilah breaks all of her parent’s rules for order and reason and joins forces with Cece and Ezra to set out on the road in an old RV in hopes of finding her dead cousin. Lilah and Ezra have a love connection amid the chaos, and when they discover what really happened to Thomas, it’s a truth no one saw coming. One that just might get them killed.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Also by Amy Sparling

  About the Author

  My tiny piece of the universe always seems a little brighter on the last day of school. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes everything sparkle and shine right after that final bell of the day. While the rest of the barbarians at Fawn Lakes High School are barreling down the hallways in an attempt to be the first people out of the building, I take my time.

  My junior year of school is officially over, so I see everything in a different way now. I’m not exactly smarter or more adult or anything, but school is out and I can breathe. The massive blue and silver clock in the main hallway looks more like a beacon of hope, instead of a constant reminder that I’m about to be late to my next class. Teachers standing in the hallways transform into normal human beings that I might run into at the grocery store or the beach, but I no longer have to worry about being in dress code around them or keeping my phone hidden. The last day of school truly is the best day ever.

  As much as I’m ready to get out of here, the parking lot is always a massive traffic jam for at least fifteen minutes, so there’s no reason to shove my way through the halls.

  Kit waits for me on her car. We always hang out by her beat up silver Volvo until the traffic clears up, but she’s usually sitting in the driver’s seat, blasting the air conditioning and jamming out to Sia or Twenty One Pilots by the time I arrive. Today she’s actually on her car. She fits perfectly on the hood, her hands splayed out behind her, and her feet resting on the black bumper. Her face is turned up toward the sun, her heart-shaped sunglasses covering all but her smile.

  Kit has long black hair that falls over her shoulders. Among the reasons one could have to be jealous of Kit Hahn, is her extreme and completely effortless beauty. Unlike most girls (myself included) who have to flat iron, prime, powder and pluck just for the chance to be noticed by the opposite sex, Kit truly doesn’t have to do a thing to look like she stepped out of an old black and white movie. I try to emulate her natural style and laid back charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s a waste of energy.

  “You make a beautiful hood ornament,” I say as I approach. “But how have you not melted into the paint yet?”

  Kit laughs and lowers her head. “You might have to steal a shovel from metal shop to scoop me off of here.” Her lips curl upward as she lifts up a sweaty leg from the roof. “Why is it so effing hot in Texas?”

  I pop open the back door and toss my backpack inside next to hers. “The real question is why would metal shop have a shovel? They work with metal, not petunias.”

  She shrugs and slides off the hood, leaving the shiny silver paint exactly where it’s supposed to be. “There has to be a shovel somewhere in this school.”

  “Luckily, you no longer need it.”

  She grins. “Touché.”

  Her car may be ugly, but the air conditioning is on point. It blows cold air as if the Hulk himself is under the hood working the compressor. We both let our faces hover in front of the vents while the hordes of other students come to a gridlock at our school’s exit lane which also happens to be the entrance. The road engineers in Telico must have had an off day when they designed this parking lot.

  I turn to the side and let the air blow my hair all over the place because now that school is out, it doesn’t matter what I look like. “One more year and we’re officially done with this crap.”

  “Technically it’s one hundred and eighty days of actual school left,” Kit says. “The rest are weekends and holidays.”

  “And how many days of summer break are ahead of us?” I ask, because Kit always knows these things.

  “One hundred and four. We should make the most of them.” Kit rests her chin on her steering wheel while we watch a white Ford truck pull out into the lane in front of us and immediately slam on the brakes. “You know,
after this stupid reunion. I’ll be working on that for the rest of the week.”

  Kit’s mom is planning her twentieth high school reunion and has recruited Kit to do a lot of the work with her. Last weekend, that task included looking up the non-responders on Facebook, which was hard for both of us since we don’t use social media. It’s only been two years since I deleted my profile in an effort to be more present in real life, but the website has changed a lot since then.

  “There’s not much fun to be had this summer when you have a mother like mine,” I say with a frown. “You know she won’t let me do anything fun.”

  Kit nods. “But she’ll let you stay over at my house and that can be our cover for doing wild and amazing things.”

  “Mrs. Hahn isn’t exactly the poster woman for mothers who let their kids do wild and amazing things,” I say, and all we can do is laugh because we’re both the product of strict mothers, though Kit’s mom is culturally strict and mine is compensating for the past.

  “Guess we’ll have to wait until next summer to do something extraordinary.”

  I close my eyes and let the air conditioning tickle my eyelashes. “I’m always down for a good one hundred and four day Netflix marathon.”

  “Hey, there’s your cousin,” Kit says, pointing through an opening in the two cars in front of us. To the right, the school busses line up next to the building for the unfortunate students who are too young to drive or can’t bum a ride. Standing in line to board bus sixteen is a chubby girl with long red hair and dark wash jeans that have bleach splatters going up the legs from an unfortunate laundry room accident. “Should we ask if she wants a ride home?”

  Kit has met Cece a handful of times in the three years we’ve been friends. Every single occurrence was super awkward and left me reeling with second hand embarrassment. My family is used to Cece’s lack of filter when she talks, but other people aren’t. This is exactly why I prefer to go to Kit’s house instead of invite her over to mine.

  “Nah, that’s okay.” As I say the words, I feel a little guilty about it, but Cece is already hopping up the stairs and into the bus. She wouldn’t hear me if I called her name now. I mean, probably not. I give Kit a half smile. “She doesn’t mind the bus.”

  My summer vacation has only existed for two hours when Mom calls my name in that way that means whatever she’s going to say will annoy me. “Lilah!” It’s only two syllables but she draws it out for a full five seconds. Everything else she says quickly. “Cece? It’s time for dinner and a family meeting!”

  I sit up in bed, turn off the TV, and exhale. Then I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, just because the first one didn’t seem to do anything. God only knows what Mom’s about to spring on me, not even allowing me one full day of slovenly summer fun to myself.

  I have a pretty good guess:

  Family therapy every other week instead of once a month. (Because summer break means there’s more time for this sort of nonsense.)

  Chores.

  Rules.

  More rules.

  Structure and expectations.

  Probably some job applications or internships.

  Pleasant reminders that we are all okay and that no problem is so big it can’t be solved with talking it out in a logical, safe way.

  I hop off my bed and walk to my door which is cracked open a few inches. Down the hall, Cece’s door bursts open, so I wait, letting her go first into whatever ambush Mom has prepared for us this afternoon. I shouldn’t be so annoyed because family meetings are as frequent as internet outages in our middle-of-nowhere country bumpkin town. But ever since that day tragedy struck our family, these meetings have only served as a reminder of the painful past, not a way to heal from it.

  Cece left her bedroom door wide open with some awful punk music blasting through the speakers of her Hello Kitty radio. Cece’s unfortunate music choice is just one of the ways my cousin and I are complete opposites. Besides being the same age and loving Grandma’s homemade chicken and dumplings, I can’t think of a single thing she and I have in common anymore. I watch her walk airily down the hallway and through the living room. There’s a little pep in her step, her rainbow socked feet seeming to dance along the carpet. Her dark red hair is pulled to the side and braided, tied at the end with a pink ribbon. Sometimes I wonder if she hates these family meetings as much as I do. If she even knows she’s the reason we have them.

  But then I guess she has to know. She’s bipolar, not stupid.

  Mom’s in the kitchen balancing four plates and a stack of napkins on top of two pizza boxes. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled into a low ponytail, and if all the stray wispy strands of hair around her face are any indication, she’s had a stressful day at work. Still, she beams when we walk in. “Have a seat girls. I have some—well, weird news.”

  I lift an eyebrow and sit at the dining table next to my dad.

  “Why are you home?” I ask him out of curiosity, but the way his eyebrow cocks tells me it probably sounded rude. “I mean, I’m glad to see you, but it’s weird.”

  As a fireman, Dad works twenty-four hours on and then gets two days off. Since he went to work this morning, he shouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

  Light from the low hanging chandelier reflects off his shaved head. Dad chuckles, but doesn’t look up from checking sports news on his phone. “I’m officially on vacation. Your mom will explain in a minute.”

  Cece grabs a soda and sits on the other side of the table. There are enough places for six people, but only four of us live here. Mom and Dad sit at each end in their regular spots. I sit on one side and Cece sits on the other, diagonally across from me. The chair directly in front of me is where her brother used to sit. After Thomas died, although no one said anything, that chair became like a permanent memorial to him.

  Mom brings in the pizza and we all dig in. Pizza usually isn’t the meal of choice when Mom’s about to lay down some annoying new family structure rules. Pizza is the peace offering food, the kind of thing you bring out on special occasions to trick us into thinking it’s not as bad as it is. I eye my parents for any signs of terminal illness, but they both seem okay, if not a little stressed.

  Mom waits until we’ve been eating a few minutes before clearing her throat and putting on her pleasant superintendent smile. “Well, girls, we have something unexpected to share with you.”

  “Are you having a baby?” Cece asks, her mouth full of pizza.

  “I should hope not!” Mom says with a laugh. She puts a hand to her heart. “I had my tubes tied the day Lilah was born.”

  “TMI,” I say.

  It’s no secret Mom only wanted one child, one perfect offspring she could raise to be just like her. Organized, detail oriented, educated, sophisticated, and all the other -ateds. Mom’s singular greatest goal in life is me. The pressure to excel was hefted onto my shoulders at a very young age. I only ever got a break from expected perfection when my aunt and uncle died and my two cousins became my parents’ responsibility. But that break was short-lived because when Thomas died half a year later, Mom shouldered even more responsibility onto me even though I was only thirteen. In addition to getting perfect grades, staying in shape, keeping a tidy and organized life, I now had to help keep Cece under control on top of dealing with a mountain of grief.

  Easier said than done.

  I get so lost in the memories of Thomas’ mysterious death four and a half years ago and the aftermath of what our family went through with Cece, that I don’t hear the start of Mom’s story. When I look up, she’s looking at my dad with this sort of what can you do expression.

  “Wait, what?” I say.

  Mom’s green eyes dart to me, her upper lip pinching slightly together. “Excuse me, Lilah?”

  I swallow. “Excuse me, Mom. I was caught up thinking about a—school thing—and didn’t hear what you were saying.”

  “She said we’re free for nine days,” Cece says, winking when I look over at her. She puts her fist
in the air and pumps it victoriously. “Let’s have a party. Know where to get some cocaine?”

  “I absolutely did not say that.” Mom gives her a stern side-eyed glance before turning to me. “I said Jolene’s daughter went into labor a month early. And Cece, drugs are not something to joke about.”

  Jolene is another administrator at Telico Independent School District where Mom is superintendent. I lift an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with us?”

  Mom heaves a sigh. “Geez, Lilah. Were you listening to anything I said?”

  My cheeks feel hot, and I glance over at Cece, who’s admiring the sparkles in her nail polish, probably already bored with this conversation. “I apologize, Mom. I should have been focusing when you were talking.”

  Focus is one of Mom’s favorite buzzwords. She nods and straightens her shoulders. “Jolene was scheduled to attend a week long Inclusive Education conference in Huntsville, Alabama, but since she needs to be with her daughter right now, she can’t go. The ticket is already paid for, so I will be attending in her place and your father is coming with me. We leave tomorrow morning and will return Sunday night a week from now.”

  Something sparks to life inside my chest. Is it…excitement? I look over at Cece and try not to burst into a big goofy grin. Never in my entire life have both of my parents been gone overnight. A sudden image of life without a strict schedule, overbearing rules, and Mom’s stupid therapy sessions fills me with a euphoria I’ve never known was possible. “So we are free for nine days?”

  Cece smiles, her lips greasy from the pizza. She hasn’t talked directly to me in ages, but she’s looking at me now. “First time ever. Should the party start tomorrow?”

  She’s only kidding, but Mom narrows her eyes and raises her voice. “There will be no parties. No boys, no friends.”

  Even as she says it, the evil bad daughter inside of me is thinking you can’t enforce those rules if you aren’t home. Of course, that person doesn’t really exist. I follow the rules and I keep the order. It’s just how it is. Still, there’s a giddiness filling my bones at the idea of being truly free for a week, even if I only abuse the situation by sleeping too late and watching too much TV.