Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Lennon had the mind of an adult now, not a child. But the treatment had brought back that feeling of awe of the world that had been covered over by years and fears and all the other things that life delivered and that she’d taken on. She didn’t know if this would last or if it was the residual effects of those drugs still tapping pleasure centers in her mind, but she’d hold on to it while she could. If nothing else, it was a reminder of what she should strive for, even if it could only be achieved for moments at a time.
What must it be like to live with hopelessness and pain every day of your life and then to suddenly feel this? The way Ambrose must have felt. It made her want to cry.
She suddenly remembered that story of the man jumping off the bridge and the sea lion that saved him. She’d looked that story up in the days after he’d told it. At first, she’d wondered if it might have been Ambrose’s story. But it wasn’t. It was true, though, and in the aftermath of the experience, that man went around the country and gave motivational talks. It was inspiring, and she understood now why Ambrose had remembered all the details. Because it was somewhat . . . magical. It was a confirmation about how mysterious the world really was. How many layers there were that people couldn’t see.
I think it’s important to be able to determine when answers are necessary and when they’re not, Ambrose had said to her a few days after she’d met him.
She hadn’t known how to interpret that then. But she understood now. She knew exactly what he’d meant. She’d seen beneath the surface. She’d spent five hours there.
Her gaze moved down to the street, where a man and woman laughed as they ran through the rain. She smiled, tilting her head as they splashed out of sight, picturing the block where they’d turned. God, she loved this city. She knew its every nook and cranny, from the wide streets of the avenues where she’d grown up to the narrow neon blocks of Chinatown. This city of her heart was filled with artists and entrepreneurs, rebels and dreamers, and featured every culture under the sun, and had once, very literally, risen from the ashes. You could be anyone in San Francisco and be embraced not despite your differences but because of them. It was eclectic and beautiful and classy and funky. It was home, and it would be part of her heart and soul until the moment she took her final breath.
She cared deeply about the people who shared her city, not only as fellow humans but as a sort of extended family too. She wanted them to be well. She wished for them to thrive.
The door opened, and Ambrose came in, holding several to-go bags, his face breaking into a smile when he saw her out of bed and standing by the window. He’d brought her here after the treatment, and she’d slept for—she glanced at the clock—three hours while he’d watched over her. When she’d woken, there was a note on the bedside table that he’d gone to get dinner and would be back.
He held up a bag. “Italian.”
“Oh my God, I love you.” He grinned, but their eyes met. And she thought maybe she did love him, even though it was far too soon and she really didn’t know him. But then again, maybe she did, and God, but life felt so full of possibilities.
“This is going to taste like some of the best food you’ve ever had,” he said. “Some of that is because you haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but you also might still have some of the narcotics in your system.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you’re not tempted to take this cocktail on a regular basis.”
He gave her a quirk of his lip. “They have their place in treatment, but hallucinogens aren’t great for your brain, or your body, on a regular basis. And I value my brain and body. I’ve been an addict, and I have no desire to live that life again.”
“Point taken.”
He set the bags down and began opening them and pulling out the fragrant boxes of food, her mouth literally watering as the steamy scents of basil and cheese wafted her way. “Help yourself,” he said.
She did, any shyness she might have felt overtaken by her body’s craving for food. She picked up a container of spaghetti and a plastic fork and started eating, moaning as the food hit her tongue. She ate in earnest for several minutes, and when she looked up, he was watching her, a smile tipping his lips. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked around a bite of garlic bread.