Sweet & Spicy (Sweet Water #1) Read Online Samantha Whiskey

Categories Genre: Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Sweet Water Series by Samantha Whiskey
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Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
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“I know you’re right,” I said. Waiting tables wasn’t easy. Working for Jim wasn’t easy. Paying my own way for the first time in my life wasn’t easy. I loved the challenge in all of it, but working on myself? That was the most difficult thing I’d ever done in my life.

“As much as you’re owning what you conceive as your failures in life,” she said, “you need to own that you’re doing so well now because of you. Not because of your father or his demands. Not because of the new friendship with Brad or the budding prospects of a relationship with Jim. Not even because of the encouragement and support from your sister. This is all you.”

Tears of gratitude filled my eyes, and I tried to laugh them off and brush them away. “I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to me like that before,” I said. “No one outside of Jim.”

Something like sadness weighed in her eyes before she smoothed it away, replacing it with a professional mask of non-bias. “That is unfortunate,” she said. “But you can’t control other people’s reactions to you or your choices. You’ve learned that here, and have utilized the tools I’ve given you to help you with your progress. It’s time for you to start seeing yourself as the worthy individual you are instead of the troubled, dark mark on the VanDoren name that your family has made you feel like for all these years.”

I sucked in a deep breath, shaking my head. “It’s not all their fault,” I admitted. “I know that now. After what happened…I didn’t realize what I was doing, but after seeing you so many times and digging into my past, I can see what I was doing. Trying to erase and outrun something that I’d never be able to face and blaming everyone else around me and taking it out on them when they had no responsibility in the matter at all.”

Guilt sank heavy against my chest, the brutal sting all too real without the slow, numbing burn of an alcohol haze. The craving tickled the back of my throat, whispering promises of an escape into my ear. It never went away, that initial reaction to reach for something that would quiet my mind, but I’d gotten a hell of a lot better at acknowledging it and then putting it in its place.

My addiction would never go away, but the way I reacted to it could change. I’d proven that. Some days felt impossible while others were as easy as breathing. I just had to take it one day at a time.

“Are you referring to your sister?” she asked.

“Mainly,” I answered. “I took it out on her the most.” I cringed at the flood of memories that raced through my mind, a succession of sugary insults or downright ruthless behavior against my sister who was completely innocent in the matter.

I took a deep breath. I was making amends, and she’d already graciously forgiven me without even knowing my motivation behind all the awful things I’d done.

“My father…” I continued. “Some of the things I did to spite him, yes. And I’m not all that sorry for it.” I shrugged. “He constantly pitted me against and compared me to Persephone, even when it was clear we were two entirely different people. I don’t know if that is why he doesn’t like me as much or if it’s because I couldn’t shape myself into her carbon copy.” I shook my head. “Either way, it only agitated the situation about ten times more after…”

I let the statement hang there, my entire body clenching at the memory.

“Are you ready to open up to me about the incident?” Dr. Casson asked gently. “You’ve referred to it so many times in our past conversations like it was a catalyst for the spiral you admit to falling into right after.”

Ice coated my skin, my heartbeat kicking up a few notches at her direct question. Would explaining what happened help me move on from it? Would it somehow unhook its claws from me?

I honestly didn’t know, but I’d never told anyone before, and Dr. Casson had more than proved she was trustworthy. I just…God, I was terrified she’d hear my story and then accuse me of being a child for reacting the way I did toward my family, toward my sister.

“If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” I blurted out, surprising even myself. “I’ve never told anyone before,” I admitted. “And I’m not going to lie, I’m a little afraid you’ll end our sessions and call me an asshole for the way I behaved after. For the way I haven’t been able to get over it.”

She gave me an encouraging smile, nothing but sincerity in her rich brown eyes. She was my age, and if I pretended hard enough, I could imagine we were just two old friends sharing our darkest secrets over coffee.



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