The Fear of Letting Go by Sarra Cannon Page A

my chest. I have never been in a situation like that, and I have no idea what to say to her to tell her how sorry I am that she went through that.
    “That sounds terrifying,” I say. “I'm sorry.”
    “We were stupid,” she says. “We both knew we were walking the line, but we couldn't seem to stop ourselves. Every time we'd get high, we swore it was going to be the last time. We just needed one more hit and we were done,” she says. “We'd clean up our act for about a week, maybe two, and then be right back at it.”
    “Addiction is tough.”
    “You have no idea,” she says. “It's brutal. I would be doing okay, swearing I was done with that shit, but then something bad would happen and I felt like I needed it. I know you probably don't understand that at all, but it was so real to me. The smallest thing could send me back over the edge.”
    I don't know what to say. She's right. I don't understand that kind of addiction, and there's so much desperation in her voice, it scares me.
    “It was a coping mechanism,” she says. “A way to escape the shitty life I was living and get away for a while. I guess in some ways, getting high was my way of forgetting the consequences of my life, for a while. Forgetting reality. You had money to bail you out. I had drugs.”
    She laughs, but it's a joyless sound.
    I reach over and touch her hand. She looks up, surprised, but takes my hand and threads her fingers through mine.
    “I have no idea why I'm telling you all this,” she says, a tear escaping down her cheek. “I don't like to think about those days, anymore. I don't very much like the person I used to be.”
    She sniffs and leans her head over to wipe her cheek against her shirt.
    “You must think I'm a real piece of trash,” she says, not looking me in the eyes.
    Her words stab deeply. “Not even one tiny bit,” I say. “I was actually thinking how strong you are.”
    She looks up, her eyes now overflowing with tears. “Strong? No way.”
    “Yes,” I say, gripping her hand tighter. “Do you know how many people can never get out from under something like that? How many people would still be getting high every weekend and falling deeper and deeper into that hole of depression? But not you. You made a very difficult change and finished school. You're in college, working practically full time to support yourself, with no help from anyone else. I admire you, to be honest.”
    She rolls her eyes and sniffs. “How could a guy like you, with all that you have, and all that you've accomplished, admire someone like me? I'm nothing,” she says.
    I move closer to her and put a hand on her cheek. She lifts her eyes to me, and I make sure I have her complete attention before I speak.
    “Then you don't see yourself very clearly,” I say. “You are one of the most beautiful, most amazing women I've ever known.”
    Her hand tightens around mine and for a moment, we're suspended a mere breath away from each other, the air between us shifting one last time as some of the walls she's built around herself fall away.
    I run my thumb down her cheek, caressing her skin and wanting nothing more in this world than to pull her into my arms and kiss her.
    As my lips touch hers, the power kicks back on and elevator begins to move.

Chapter Fourteen
    Jenna
     
    The elevator comes back to life, and I nearly have a heart attack. I spring to my feet and clutch the handrail.
    My heart is pounding, and it's not just because of the sudden movement. What the hell just happened here?
    It's funny. I've heard people say before that there's just something that happens when you're stuck in an elevator. As if you have no idea if you're truly going to survive the night, you begin to spill your darkest secrets.
    That has to be it. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why I just told Preston all that crap about my past. It was the one thing I didn't want anyone in my new life to know about me. Well, okay, one of the things. There