Authors: Anya Monroe
acknowledgements
Thank you to the friends, family, and fans who have leaned into the possibility of finding ways to let their own light shine. This trilogy was a labor of love, and your support has meant so much.
Thank you Eryn Carpenter, John Pelkey, Gary Snodgrass, and Kristi Rose for believing n this trilogy and helping me improve the story, one page at a time.
Thank you to my children Phoenix, Isabela, Moses, Maisey, Lincoln and Atticus for your love and support. And thank you Jeremy, for riding this roller coaster with me.
about the author
Anya Monroe
likes to write stories and paint words on her walls. She believes in love at first sight and fights for happily-ever-afters. As a wife and mom to six kids, she carves out time to write between carpool pick-ups and date nights because words are her heartbeat.
She lives a ferry ride from Seattle and is a total Pacific Northwesterner who drinks chai lattes and wears Birkenstocks and has dreadlocks. She's a cliché, but doesn't mind it. Not even a little.
She documents her lovely-messy life on IG @anyamonroe and blogs at
http://anyamonroe.com
.
Find her there!
have you checked out
the dream catcher
by anya monore?
here’s chapter one!
chapter one
My parents told me apathy is the first sign of depression and I told them I don’t give a shit. That’s when I got locked up in the psych ward for fourteen days, which is how long insurance would let me stay. The only decent thing about that place was the drugs were so good I could sleep without remembering.
At home, I don’t have that luxury. Grandma got all hooked on painkillers a few years ago so to say my parents have “issues” with narcotics would be an understatement. In their opinion, Advil is basically a gateway drug.
Besides the drugs, I hated the psych ward. The food was seriously disgusting and access to Starbucks was a no-go. One time Ollie tried to bring me a quad-venti-salted-caramel-mocha and he had to dump it out in a sink. Literally dump the entire twenty ounces of glory down the drain in front of the nurse. I told him he was a jackass for even telling me that story.
You don’t mess with caffeine.
At least I don’t. Not anymore.
I suppose I am a hypocrite. Since I do care about coffee, which is the only thing keeping me on this side of crazy.
“I’m getting a bagel. You want anything to eat?” Ollie asked as we pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru. I shook my head no, frowning at the question. Carbs made me sleepy. Sleeping is where all the trouble started. “Okay, one bagel and a venti Americano with cream. Oh, and a grande chocolate chip Frappuccino,” he said into the intercom.
“I can’t believe you’re drinking that before 8 am.”
“It’s all good, Penny. I’m headed to the lake with my paddleboard. Ain’t nobody gonna hold me down!” He gets all gangster when he’s pumped. He graduated high school last week and suddenly the world is his oyster. Which would make sense if he weren’t currently couch surfing.
“I still have to go to school, okay? Stop rubbing it in my face.”
I had another week of junior year. Ollie could suck it. He got to do whatever the hell he wanted. I mean, besides the homeless part. I handed him a twenty, which he in turn handed to the barista hanging out the window wearing a green apron and a smile.
I scowled at her.
Taking a sip of the coffee helped even though Ollie kept driving toward the massive brick masterpiece that had been my school for way too long. The place blew, and Ollie was the only reason it had managed to remain semi-tolerable.
“I can’t believe you’re ditching me. I would never do that to you,” I whined to my best friend as we pulled up to the curb for drop off.
“Look, I’ll pick you up after school, just like we promised your parents, and then we can go do something epic. Something totally Penny.” He leaned over to open the door for me, kissing me on the cheek.
“What in the world is something
totally Penny
?” I asked, as I got out of his ancient Honda civic.
“We could go to the mall. There’s a sale at American Eagle.”
I rolled my eyes out of habit. Having a gay best friend would be better if I liked to shop.
“You’re such a cliché,” I said, shutting the door.
“See you at three!” He called through the rolled-down window as he drove away, leaving me standing, half-awake, on the sidewalk outside of the lamest establishment known to man.
I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie as it vibrated. Mom.
MOM: Hope you made it to school okay! See you at 6. Please check in at 3 and hand in paper! XO
I needed more coffee if I was going to get through the day.
***
Ollie was waiting just as he’d promised. Well, promised my parents. They stopped letting me drive after I fell asleep at the wheel at the four-way outside of the Safeway. Which was an accident, obviously. They took away my license then followed it up by sticking me with a massive curfew when I took full advantage of my “not having to drive” status. Apparently coming home high is “reckless” even if I wasn’t the driver. They clearly didn’t know that pot was legal in like two states and just because we lived in Iowa didn’t mean we should be punished. When I pointed this out to them they accused me of being “argumentative.” I’d hoped they would be more understanding considering they were professors at a liberal arts college. I guess liberality has its limit.
They didn’t understand weed had been the only thing keeping me sane. Numb enough to fall asleep without anxiety attacks.
Until it didn’t. Until the weed just made me sleepy and anxious. And paranoid.
It was the ‘shrooms that put me in the psych ward.
Which was bullshit. Whatever. I’d been back in school for a week, and only had a week to go until summer.
“Did you meet any cute guys at the lake?” I asked.
Ollie smiled. He was so damned cute. The collar of his yellow polo folded up just so, black Ray Ban eyeglasses perched perfectly across the crooked bridge of his nose. The epitome of adorable.
“God no. Just a bunch of middle aged white guys thinking they can capture their youth with a pseudo-surf board.
“Basically you in twenty years?” I asked, buckling myself up, shoving my messenger bag under my feet.
“Shut up. Hey, I did put in one job application today. There aren’t a lot of prospects for privileged-under-abled guys here. Except the golf course. That’s my lead.”
“You’d hate that job. Waiting tables in a country club?” I frowned at him like he’d become a traitor to our unspoken pact of being as hipster as possible. Joking!
“I have no other options. Seriously. And there’s like seventeen dollars in my bank account. I need a plan.”
Ollie focused on the road, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I don’t think I had slept in over three days.
“Hey, as a reward for me getting through another day of school, let’s get you a Cinnabon and me a java-chip-something at the mall,” I suggested, trying to get Ollie’s mind off the direness of his situation. His parents are such jackasses. The super-Christian kind who apparently never took the hint that their son had been gay for the past eighteen years, therefore subsequently acting shocked when he came out to them on graduation. Six days ago.
He didn’t want to start the next phase of his life hiding who he was. I’m proud of him. He knew they’d flip out like we were living in 1995 or something, but he did it anyway. I wouldn’t have. I’m not brave like him. I mean, I’ve never even told anyone about my nightmares, about why I can’t sleep.
“Yeah, about the mall,” Ollie started. “I didn’t realize when I mentioned the sale this morning the state of my funds. The new hoodie will have to wait, my dear.”
“Let me get it. It’s the least I can do. You’re my personal chauffeur and designated keep-me-out-of-trouble person.”
“Except I’m the one who got you in trouble in the first place.” He looked over at me as he drove, pushing out his bottom lip.
“Get over it, okay? Just because you gave them to me didn’t mean I needed to take them. And we could have never planned that reaction.”
The
reaction
to the mushrooms being me running out the front door, spazing about the nightmare in the middle of the street. I was not wearing any clothes.
That was a low point.
“Oh, by the way, I scored these for you. My last big splurge.” Ollie leaned over and pushed open the glove compartment revealing a half dozen 5-Hour Energy bottles.
“Orange, my favorite!” I picked one and unscrewed the cap. Swallowing, I looked at him knowing he would do anything for me. Absolutely anything. “I love you, Oliver.”
“I love you too, Penelope.”
Which was the problem with love. It blurred the lines.