The Truth of Letting Go Read online

  At night, after I’ve showered and cleaned the dishes, I sit on the couch with the remote in my hand. A thunderstorm crackles in the distance, and then soon the sound of rain on the roof confirms that this is a night meant for staying in. Not that we had any other choice, really.

  The TV is still off, though. Normally weekends are reserved for hanging out with Kit, but I haven’t texted her yet, aside from a quick yum reply to a photo she sent me of her mom’s famous chocolate cake. Any other Friday night and my parents would be here watching TV, or Mom would have the TV all to herself if Dad was working. All I know is that I wouldn’t be here on a normal week. I’d be off doing normal teenager things, or in my bedroom with my best friend Kit.

  But this week has been different in every possible way. Cece comes in, her hair in a towel. Her SpongeBob pajama pants do not match the bright red blood donor shirt she’s wearing, but it makes me smile.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I pat the seat next to me and she sits down, curling her legs underneath her. “I spilled some nail polish on the bathroom counter,” she says, studying her freshly painted nails.

  “Nail polish remover should get that off,” I say. “There’s a bottle on my vanity if you’re out.”

  Her lips twitch into an evil grin. “I know, but I’m leaving it there. Aunt Carol will see it and flip out.”

  “You want her to get mad at you?”

  She shrugs. “It’s all part of the plan to make it look like we’ve been here all week. I spilled a different color than what I’m wearing.”

  I laugh. “You might be taking the believability factor a little overboard.”

  “Witness protection isn’t something to take lightly. We need this to be believable. Aunt Carol can’t suspect anything.”

  I turn the remote over in my hand. We’ve been so busy all day, but now that we’ve settled down, the surreal reality of what has happened hangs in the air like a thick fog. “Do you think we can pull this off?” I ask, my voice faint.

  “Of course we can.”

  “How are you so confident?”

  She gives me a pointed look. “If Thomas can fake his own death for this long, we can keep a secret.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to?” I pick at a thread on the couch pillow. “You know, when you get…manic?”

  She starts to roll her eyes and then she stops and peers at me, a serious look on her face. “Lilah, that’s not how it works. Everyone is so scared of me going manic on them, but it’s not like it turns me into some psychotic weirdo. I just get a lot of energy—sometimes I focus so hard on things and I don’t know how to stop. But I’m always aware of myself. Even when I was a kid and I ran off all those times, I still knew who I was and what I was doing. I knew it was wrong, but I guess I just didn’t want to stop. But I could have, if I needed to.” She chuckles. “It’s not like I’m going to suddenly flip a switch and run into oncoming traffic, Lilah. And I definitely won’t ever tell about Thomas.”

  My brows pull together. To be honest, I haven’t paid much attention to her bipolar disorder in the last few years. Now that I’m hanging out with her, she doesn’t seem like a threat. Why have I been so damn judgmental?

  “I guess it was just easier to stay away from you,” I say, voicing my thoughts aloud. “I was a terrible person to you. All those sessions talking about manic depressive people just made me scared of you.” I swallow and look down at my lap. “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I have all these years.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Cece says, but I shake my head because she’s going too easy on me.

  “It is. It’s very much my fault.” My jaw hardens and I draw in a deep breath. “It won’t be like that anymore. I’m here for you, always. And when Mom gets back we’re going to have a talk with her. We can bring the stupid therapist into it if we have to, but we’re almost eighteen and you’re not a mental patient who should be locked up. We don’t need these stupid therapy sessions anymore.”

  I’m all fired up now and when Cece’s eyes widen, mine do too. “We’re putting a stop to all of it except for when you want to go.”

  She snorts. “That’d be a miracle.”

  “It will be a miracle because it’s happening. We’re putting our foot down, Cece. You deserve a normal life. You also deserve to be manic or down, but when you’re down I hope you’ll come get me and I’ll hang out with you as long as it takes.”

  “And when I’m manic?” She chews on her lip.

  I shrug. “Next time you want to dance in the pouring rain, I’ll be there dancing with you.”

  The doorbell rings. The clock on the wall says it’s just after seven. “It’s too late for package deliveries,” I say, frowning.

  “Maybe you should go check it anyway,” Cece says in this voice that’s clear she’s hiding something. She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Who is it?” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.

  She shrugs and looks off into the distance like she’s bored. I rush to the window and peer out. The porch swing is on the other side, but it’s storming so hard outside I can’t see much. The front door is too far away to see who’s there, but a black truck is parked in our driveway. “It’s some truck I’ve never seen,” I say, turning back to Cece. Then a figure steps back from the door and comes into view. He waves at me, his face glowing from the porch light.

  “Why is Ezra here?” I whisper in case he can hear me from the other side of the glass. “And why do you seem to know about it?”

  “I invited him,” Cece says, making her way to the door.

  “Wait, he can’t be here,” I say, rushing over to her.

  She rolls her eyes. “They won’t be home until Sunday. We’re fine.”

  “But—I was trying to hang out with you. Make up for all those years of being a terrible cousin.”

  “There’s time for that,” she says. “Lilah, we don’t know how long we have on this earth. We need to take happiness where we find it. And I happen to think you two are really cute together.”

  “And what about you?” I ask, ignoring how her comment makes my toes tingle with the idea of being part of a cute couple.

  She pulls open the door. “Come in!” she tells Ezra through the screen door. He’s holding two pink roses and hands one of them to Cece and me.

  “Such a gentleman,” she says, batting her eyelashes at me. She puts the rose to her nose and inhales. “You better not mess this up, Lilah.” She turns on her heel and prances off, clearly proud of her little stunt of setting us up.

  “Ignore her,” I tell Ezra, but I’m burning from head to toe with embarrassment. This beautiful pink rose marks the very first time a guy has given me flowers. I feel like the event should be commemorated somehow.

  “Cece, wait,” I call out to her retreating form. I turn to Ezra. “How long can you stay?”

  His shoulders lift. “As long as you want me.”

  I grin as I twist the rose stem between my fingers. Cece walks back, a curious look on her face. “Let’s grab some sodas and order a pizza. We’ll break into your old house and throw a party.”

  “A party?” Cece says, tilting her head. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “We’ll crank the music and eat junk food and dance in the rain. We’ll celebrate the life of a guy we all used to know.”

  “My kind of party,” Ezra says with a grin.

  “I don’t know,” Cece says. “That sounds a little unreasonable.”

  I inhale the deep floral scent of my rose. “That, my dear cousin, is exactly what makes it a good idea.”

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  Series

  The Summer Unplugged Series

  The Summer Series

  The Believe in Me Series

  The Immortal Mark Series

  The In Plain Sight Series

  First Love Shorts

  Standalone Novels

  Ella’s Twisted Senior Year

  Natalie and the Nerd

  Lana’s Ex Prom Date

  When Zoey Fell Too Far

  Deadbeat

  Phantom Summer

  Amy Sparling is the author of The Summer Unplugged Series, Ella's Twisted Senior Year, Deadbeat & other awesome books for younger teens. She loves coffee, the beach, and swooning over book boyfriends.

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