Page 170 of Spicy Ever After
Team Guilt gains more ground.
But if we can survive this, I will have done what’s in my power to lessen my parents’ grip on me. The townhouse? Agreeing to enroll in Summit House means it’ll be in my name, and my name only. No shared title. No trust. No guardian. No supported power of attorney bullshit.
Mine.
I don’t care if they cut me off after that and I have to live off saltine crackers and canned tuna. This is the last time Mom and Dad get to pull this manipulative shit. I’ll have a home and I’ll have my freedom.
Whether or not I’ll have anything else—including Beck—is what I can’t know right now.
“So, coming to Summit House was their idea, is that right?” Gwen asks.
I snort. “Yeah, it was their idea.”
The vibe in the room changes. It’s subtle, but I feel it. Sadie is the only one wearing a smile now, but it’s almost like the others are smiling… I don’t know… inwardly.
Gwen turns to her. “Sadie, was it your idea to come to Summit House?”
“As if.”
Now, I want to smile. But I don’t.
When my parents tried to hug me goodbye last night—gestures I soundly rejected—Mom told me to make friends.
In a snit, I said I wouldn’t.
I’m not here to make friends.
Besides, Beck is my only real friend.
Team Longing makes an impressive comeback.
“What about you, Charlie? Was coming to Summit House your idea?”
Charlie shakes his head. “My dad said it was Summit House or the Army.”
I can’t help it. My jaw drops.
I’ve only known Charlie for about ten minutes, but I’m sure this twitchy, bespeckled little guy would absolutely perish in the military.
“Failure to Launch,” Sadie says, grinning. “It’s why all of us are here. Even you.”
“Sadie, we’ve talked about this.” Again Gwen speaks gently, but there’s no mistaking that her tone is firm. “Failure to Launch is not a term we embrace at Summit House.”
“It’s better than Peter Pan Syndrome, adultolescence, or nest-dwelling,” Sadie mutters. And I’d bet good money she did not mean to share that bit out loud.
“We prefer the term delayed independence,” Gwen enunciates clearly, and as she does, she shifts her focus from Sadie back to me.
I swallow. It suddenly feels like the only thing I can do.
Failure to Launch.
Peter Pan Syndrome.
Adultolescence.
Nest-dwelling.
I am a nest-dweller.
