Hold On, Lex
An exclusive excerpt from the novel

... At that thought, Alexis stood abruptly. “I need air,” she said.

“I can’t do this.” Tyler didn’t stop her.

“Be gentle with yourself. That was a brave step.”

“I’m not sure if that was brave or stupid,” she muttered. “But I need to go. I need to leave.”

She turned before he could see her out. By the time he tried to say goodbye, she was already halfway down the hall. Her boots echoed like a countdown. She didn’t breathe until she was outside.

 

* * * Outside

 

The cold air slapped her face, and she took it like a gift. Her ears burned so hot she swore they could melt her earrings.

She dragged a breath deep into her lungs, the wind cutting sharp through her panic. It felt cleansing—like pain, but honest.

Her boots crunched along the gravel path behind the center.

The ground was still damp from earlier rain, clouds hanging low and heavy. She walked past the wild garden beds, past the pine trees that lined the edge of the property, past the rusted bench near the meditation rock.

She didn’t know where she was going—only that it had to be far from that building.

Then she stopped abruptly, bent over, and vomited into the ferns along the trail. As she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater, she looked up and saw Elisha walking alone, wrapped in a wool blanket, a sketchbook in hand.

She wordlessly handed her a bottle of water. “Want to rinse?” she asked, her voice calm and even. ​

Alexis hesitated, then reached for the bottle. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her face burning with shame.

She never liked vomiting and was always scared and embarrassed by it. She never liked anyone to be around, but it was too late.

“Wanna sit?” Elisha pointed to a small opening in the ferns, about twenty feet away from the mess Alexis had just left behind.

Elisha sat quietly and began to sketch. The soft scratch of pencil on paper filled the silence. She didn’t say anything more, convinced that Alexis would speak if she needed to—or not.

Either way, Elisha knew what it meant to simply be present. She had learned during her few weeks here that sketching was her favorite form of meditation. The sound of the pencil moving was rhythmic, grounding. Alexis found herself matching her breath to it without meaning to—inhale, exhale, scratch, pause. It was the first calm her body had allowed in hours. She sat for a while and just listened. She glanced sideways, watching the pencil move.

Something in her chest ached. She thought of the blank notebook Dr. Ramirez gave her in the hospital, shoved into her drawer— how just looking at it made her feel accused. Elisha’s page, though, didn’t look accusing at all. It looked like it was receiving something—holding whatever she poured onto it.

A few minutes passed before Alexis cleared her throat. “You ever feel like your skin remembers something before you do?”

Her voice was tight, her words halting.

Elisha didn’t answer right away.

A few seconds later, she stopped the pencil. “Mmmhmm,” she murmured. ...