Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

college and they met during group therapy . I fucking caused her to go to therapy and—”
    “Becca’s past was pretty fucked up, Warden,” he says quickly. “And I’m almost positive she needed therapy even before you came along.”
    I ignore him and continue. “The kid’s like a perfect poster-child Abercrombie model looking douche-tool—”
    “And you’re jealous of his perfection?”
    “—and I’m just some punk skater,” I finish, and tap my glass.
    He refills it. “ Pro skater,” he says, quirking an eyebrow.
    “Irrelevant.” I practically inhale the vodka. “And no, I’m not jealous of his perfection. I’m jealous that he’s perfect for her. ”
    Hunter nods once. “Right.”
    I tap my glass again. And again, he refills it.
    “And that’s why you left the comp?”
    I stay silent.
    “Does she seem happy?” he asks, and I sit up straighter, the truth in my answer hitting me hard.
    “Yes.”
    He lifts his glass. “To perfect poster-child Abercrombie model looking douche-tools.”
    “So you’re toasting you ?”
    He laughs once. “Fuck you, skater punk.”
    I tap his glass with mine. “To the girl who chose to be happy…”

4
    —Becca—
Journal
    I’d never been to church, not until Grams had asked me to go with her when I first moved in. It was everything I expected it to be, but also nothing like I had hoped. I thought I’d walk in and God would know who I was and everything I’d been through. He’d look down on me, and I’d look up at Him and a calm would wash over me. I hoped that He’d somehow make me understand why it was this life had been chosen for me. No such thing happened, at least not from Him.
    But when Grams pulled into the driveway and Josh looked up from yet another hole he was digging and he smiled, I felt the calm I’d been searching for. I also felt something else—like the beginning of turbulence. I shouldn’t have ignored that feeling, but I did. Maybe if I chose to grasp on to that instead of the calm, he wouldn’t have taken me on a ride that had me gripping my armrest and struggling for breath.
    ~ ~

Journal
    I’ve been having these nightmares lately. We’re in a small plane—Josh and I. The plane starts to shake and I hold on to the edge of the armrest, my knuckles white from my grasp. “I got you,” Josh whispers in my ear, his breath warming my neck and relaxing me enough so he can take my hand. “I’ll always have you.” He uses his free hand to secure my seat belt. “You’ll always belong to me, Becca.”
    That’s the last thing he says before the plane nosedives and crashes into a field.
    I always wake up at the point in the dream when I get my camera out and take pictures of Josh’s dead body.
    “Morbid” was the word Dawn, my therapist, used to define my dream.
    “Morbid” wasn’t really what I was hoping for and I told her that.
    She looked at me for a long time and then finally said, “Guilt.”
    Guilt was the cause of my constant nightmares. It made sense, I guess, considering I’d spent the two weeks after the competition on the Internet, frantically searching for a reason for his sudden withdrawal. Maybe there was a family emergency, or an injury, or… anything that wasn’t me . Nothing came up. He disappeared. No one could get in contact with him, but his management—his mother—and his agent had come out and said that he was fine physically. It was all I could talk about during my sessions with Dawn. Until one day, she “strongly suggested” that I cancel the e-mail alerts and stay offline. So I did what she said, and I took her advice to focus on classes, focus on building my strength instead of trying to find reasons to excuse my weakness. And Josh, as she said, was my excuse, not my weakness. Whatever that meant.
    ~ ~

Journal
    I spent a good portion of group therapy today listening to Aaron talk about Brandi, his ex-girlfriend, and all the guilt he felt for her death. All I could think about was whether my