The next few days were uneventful. There wasn't a lot to do. I wasn't working. Max and Amalia had jobs to go to.

The apartment was fine but it seemed to feel smaller the longer I was in it.

I could've caught up with friends who lived here but most of them were superficial friendships. People I saw on shoots and that sort of thing.

So I kept myself occupied with room decor for as long as possible.

I decided to go with a sky blue and white theme. Blue was calming. Soothing. I wasn't wound up but it was good for healing, so I'd heard.

The comforter was the colour of the ocean. The walls were white.

Geometric designs added dimension and little knick knacks gave character on the side tables.

It was bright, more open and relaxing. It made me feel like I was at home in California.

Which had its pros and cons. It was nice to remember the beach side living. I missed the sea and the sand.

But home was where Flynn was and after receiving his text message on Wednesday, I couldn't stop thinking about him and what to do.

I'd never been so at war. I was starting to believe the people around me. I was starting to believe I didn't need to be so hard on myself and could let myself be happy.

But at the same time, I hated what a hassle I'd been to Flynn when I was sick.

He was constantly missing classes because he was hanging around the house to watch me eat or attempting to talk to me or pleading that I get some help.

It wasn't fair to jeopardise his studies and life with my drama. He deserved better.

I wandered out into the living area on Saturday morning and found Max and Amalia on the sofa. She was under him. He was eating her face.

I bee lined straight for the kitchen and couldn't help but feel terrible for invading their space so soon after Amalia moved in.

It seemed like wherever I went, I wasn't going to fit and that made me feel like I'd be better off in rehab.

Amalia must have heard me opening the fridge because I heard a loud thud and when I turned around, Max was on the floor.

"Hey," Amalia stood up and smoothed out her nightdress as she walked into the kitchen. "You're up. Perfect. We have french toast on Saturday mornings. It's keeping warm in the oven."

I smiled and then looked over at Max who had hauled himself off the ground and was slipping into the bathroom.

"Can you grab the cream and maple syrup out of the fridge for me please?" Amalia asked, placing a plate of hot french toast in the middle of the table.

It smelled so good and I tried hard not to think about the sugar content in a meal like that.

It was going to go straight to my hips. I'd bloat. I'd look disgusting in my jeans for the rest of the day. I'd have to wear a loose dress.

But it was one meal. I could manage that. Plus, I could do a circuit in the gym this afternoon. It was no big deal. No big deal. I'd work off the sugar. People ate sugar all the time. It was balance. I'd just have to work it off. Healthily.

It's fine.

"You didn't have to wait for me," I told Amalia as she flicked the kettle on and dropped one of my herbal tea bags into a cup. "I sleep in a lot."

She waved me off and slid some knives and forks across the breakfast bar. "Max and I eat at the table, all the time. It's kind of just a habit at this point after how I was raised. But I love eating together. All of us. You're here and you're apart of this family. So we wait."

"What about breakfast in bed," I laughed and took a seat. "If I'm still asleep at nine, just come and jump in."

Amalia giggled and sat down as well. "Tomorrow is Sunday. So I'll come and join you in the morning and we'll make Max deliver us the food."

"I like that idea."

Max closed the bathroom door and wandered towards us. "What idea?"

"You're our bitch tomorrow," I said, sliding some french toast onto my plate. "Breakfast in bed. I feel like a platter of exotic fruits and a mid morning mimosa."

Max sat down beside Amalia and shrugged. "Alright."

"I was kidding."

Amalia shook her head. "I wasn't. I mean, not the bitch part, babe. But the rest of that sounds so good."

"I'll stop at the store on the way home from work then," Max told her.

She grinned at him and popped a forkful of food into her mouth.

I knew she didn't treat Max like a personal run around. He was so willing and ready to make her happy because she did the same for him.

She cooked his favorite meals most nights. She delivered his coffee every morning, even when she was at work as well. Some evenings, after dinner, they would sit in front of the television and she would give him a massage if he'd been working out.

It was a mutual, giving relationship and I was so happy for both of them. I couldn't believe how much I missed doing something as simple as having breakfast with the person I loved.

"I didn't realise you had to work today," I said to Max looking at his designer jeans and loose hoodie.

He nodded and swallowed his mouthful. "Elias usually does the weekend shifts at the New York gallery but he and Kiara have plans or something. So I said I'd do it."

"I think he's Kiara's plus one for a wedding," Amalia said, brows pinched with thought. "Her boss' daughter or something. Bernie was jealous that he got to go, I know that much."

Max chuckled. "You still planning to go and see her?"

"Yep. I thought I would take Abby if she doesn't have plans."

I shrugged and appreciated that she wasn't just assuming I would go with her.

Actually, I wanted to go. We finished breakfast and Max left soon after he'd helped clean up.

Amalia and I dressed in casual summer clothes. Sunglasses, hats, cute sandals.

When we met in the living room to leave, there was an abundance of compliments and outfit admiration going on. It was genuine too. I loved that.

An hour and a bit later, we were outside a home that was bright and colourful.

This neighborhood made me think of Elias. Artistic. Idyllic.

We walked inside and the paint fumes hit me like a truck.

"Berns?" Amalia called out, closing the door behind her. We wandered through the kitchen, living room and then up the corridor to the first bedroom on the right. "Bernie?"

"Marnie?" I gaped when I saw Max's friend standing on a box.

She was in a burnt orange gown with bursting cleavage, her arms spread out and a bored glare on her face.

"Not a word," she muttered.

Bernie appeared from behind her with a handful of pins and grinned. "Hola."

"What is going on in here?" Amalia wandered further in, careful not to stand on the fabric covering the carpet. It was almost impossible to avoid though. I wasn't even sure what color the carpet was.

"Oh Berns, this is Abby. Abby, this is Bernie."

I waved at the small girl. She was gorgeous as well. Long dark hair. A mild overbite. Dimples and long lashes. I knew she was about thirteen but she looked more mature that that.

"Hello! Sorry about the mess. I mean, it's not really a mess anymore. It's just a lifestyle. Find somewhere to sit if you can. That is a beautiful dress. Where did you get it? You have such great style. I used to follow you on Instagram before the page got deleted. Which I get. I have a ton of your photos pinned inside my closet wall. Inspiration photos. I'm not a stalker, promise. Whe—"

"Ouch!" Marnie stared at Bernie with a touch of rage. "You just stabbed me in the hip with that pin."

Bernie winced and apologized. "I should focus."

"You should," Amalia laughed and sat down, patting the bed beside her as an invite. I stayed standing. "So what's all this about? Marnie, I have to admit, I never thought I would see the day you modeled. Much less in something with colour."

"Kiara made me," Marnie grumbled. I'd only met Marnie a handful of times but she did not strike me as someone who could be made to do anything. "Her boss works with an editor at Simon and Schuster. She said if I did this, she would get my novel to him."

Oh that's right. Last time I'd seen Marnie she was working on some sort of graphic as hell erotica novel.

"How come you didn't just use that thing?" I asked.

Bernie realised I was talking to her and looked in the direction I was pointing. Under another mountain of clothing, was a cloth mannequin standing in the corner of the room.

She turned back to her task and shrugged.

"It's too generic. Don't get me wrong, I love it and I do use it sometimes. But it's not really representative of your every day woman. Ya know? I prefer to design clothes for a range of figures. Tall, short, thin, plus size. Do you know how many jeans I've made for girls at school who can't find the right size in store. Like, a lot. Ones for girls that are tall enough in the leg but not too big in the waist. Or short in the leg and larger in the waist. It's like designers can't fathom that people aren't one size from top to bottom."

Marnie nodded. "She made me a pair for my short but chunky legs."

"Your designs are gorgeous," I ran my finger tips along the pages that were pinned to the wall. Even her sketches were of women, all shapes and sizes. The outfits were beautiful. Sort of vintage with a modern influence. "How old are you again?"

"I'll be fourteen in October," she answered with a pin between her teeth.

"So what's this dress for?" I gestured at the gown. It was floor length with a fitted bust.

The waist was ruched and it curtained, creating a pool of fabric at Marnie's feet. It was gorgeous.

The sort of dress someone would wear on the red carpet. It didn't even seem to matter that it wasn't black, Marnie suited it so well.

"Just fabrics class," Bernie said. "I'm sort of advanced. Like the rest of the class are doing stuff like making oven mitts and socks. The teacher said that it's a waste of time assessing me on that sort of stuff so I kind of just do what I want."

"I used to do that in most classes," I started opening the closet door. "I mean, I wasn't allowed to. I just didn't care."

"I used to skip classes," Marnie said. "To have sex with the same asshole that threw burger patties at me in the cafeteria. I had no self respect in high school."

"Wow," Bernie winced. "That's depressing. I'm pretty sure that I like boys less and less the older I get."

"Me too, girl."

"You and Jordan are happy," Amalia added, bringing her legs up to cross them under her bum. "You even exchanged the L word not that long ago."

Marnie scowled at her. I turned around and left them to their conversation while I peered at the inside of Bernie's closet.

No surprise, there were more clothes. But taped to the door were dozens of fashion photos arranged in colour co ordinated sections that all together, made a rainbow.

And there I was among them. Printed photos of me in catalogues, there were some from Instagram too.

Most of them were shots from summer settings. There were a lot of dresses and playsuits. A couple of bikini shots.

I stared at them and loved who I saw staring back. I wasn't as thin as I'd been when I went into rehab. I wasn't a lot heavier than I am now. But more than that, I looked happy.

The smiles were genuine. Bright.

I thought back to those moments and remembered being on top of the world, modelling, living the life I wanted so much.

That was before I'd been told I couldn't do runway. That was before I'd been told that if I wanted to sign on for the top shoots, I needed to lose weight. That was before I'd been told that the only reason anyone even remotely considered hiring me was because of who I was. A Lahey.

I'd have never been in front of a camera if it weren't for my mom and dad.

"Cute board, huh?"

I looked at Amalia who was now standing beside me, gazing over the same photos. She smiled and pointed at a tall bronzed girl who had no hair and tattoos right down the entire length of her strong muscular legs.

"Love this girl," she said. "She was a pro swimmer about four years ago. She did a photo shoot for sports illustrated and ended up getting bullied as hell for her masculine appearance. So she started an Instagram page and does a lot of like swim wear and nude shoots to advocate for girls that might have grown up on the bulkier side. She's such a sweetheart. I did some of those tattoos."

"She's gorgeous."

"Who?" Bernie piped up, she was now standing back from Marnie, taking a photo burst with her phone while she circled her.

"Quinine Freeman," Amalia answered.

"Oh! Yeah, she's amazing."

After we left Bernie that afternoon, Amalia and I sat beside each other on the train. It'd been great doing something with new people.

We went to a little cafe around the corner for lunch. We talked about designs and the plans that Bernie had for her future.

At the moment she was showing off her creations on Instagram. But she didn't have much of a following. I'd have to tell Max to give her a shout out. I wasn't ready to open my account again.

"Your sister is super talented," I said to Amalia.

"She is. She loves it too and I'm proud of her for stepping outside of mainstream norms and focusing on the fact that clothing and designing shouldn't just focus on stick thin girls."

I swallowed and thought about the fact that I'd aspired to be one of those. So badly.

"Yeah that's amazing. Considering she's pretty perfect herself. And grown up with you. You're both gorgeous."

Amalia laughed and I raised a brow. "It's just funny because you almost have the same shape as I do."

"What?"

"Look at our legs," she pressed her thigh flush with mine. "Same size. We both have chunkier bums. We're the same height. I might have bigger boobs but there's implants if that's what you want. But otherwise we're super similar. Do I need to lose weight?"

"Hell no," I was attempting not to burst into tears. Fuck, I wanted to think I was as beautiful as I saw her. "You're perfect."

"Perfect is a stupid word," she shrugged. "No offence. But who decides what the criteria is for perfect? Perfect to one person might not be perfect to another and no one gets to decide that their version of perfect is the right one. You're perfect if you're healthy and happy."

"Oh. Well—"

"I'll pinch you if I hear it again," she teased and looped her arm through mine. "Now that we've discovered we're the same size, I wanna talk sharing clothes."

I laughed. "I'm down. I wouldn't mind stealing that pair of high waist shorts you were wearing on Tuesday."

"Done if I can have that top," she gestured at the thin lace material that I was wearing.

"Deal."

We laughed and relaxed into the seat, still arm in arm. "You and Bernie are a lot alike. Personality I mean," I said. "But there's some obvious differences too."

"Yeah a lot of differences. She's a motor mouth and gets so over excited that her head almost spins. I'm a little bit more laid back. But I wouldn't be surprised if it's an age thing. She seems to calm down more and more. She'll always be enthusiastic though. I hope."

"Is the age gap hard? Like, does it make it hard to feel close?"

Amalia shook her head. "Nope. She's my sister. Ya know? I mean, it might have been harder when we were both younger. But I still loved spending time with her. When she was small and annoying, I just tried to remember that she didn't have a mom and I was her only female role model in the house. So I just did what I had to and what I could. Because yeah siblings can get on your nerves but they're still gonna be there no matter what. They're a constant. Parents can leave. Friends can leave. Lovers can leave. Siblings are a solid bond. I cherish it."

Her words hit me. Hard. I felt like it was getting hard to breathe. Still I smiled.

Abby, where the actual F did you go?! You can't just leave! I'm worried!

Hey hun. Max is quite worried. Just give us a text to let us know that you're okay. x

I'm in Texas. Sorry. I'm okay.

I looked up at the brass number eighteen on the wooden door and tapped it.

The sound echoed in the quiet dorm corridor.

There must have been something going on upstairs. That's where most of the noise seemed to be coming from.

For all I knew, Lucas wasn't even here.

The door flew open and I was proven wrong. He stood in front of me, eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Hey asshole," I grinned.

"Fucking hell," he boomed and before I knew what was happening, I was dragged into a bone crushing hug. "Shit it's been a minute. I've missed you."

The plan had been to come in, give him some shit and tell him he wasn't all that bad of a brother despite the fact that I thought he talked more shit than his asshole.

But instead, I fell apart. I burst into tears and held onto him tight.

He pushed me back and held me at the shoulders. "What the fuck? What happened? Did someone do something? I'll grab my fucking javelin pole."

I ended up making a hideous, strangled, sobbed laugh and shook my head. "A javelin pole?!"

"I cut it down so it's not too long. Easily held. Who the fuck am I stabbing?"

"No one you nutcase."

He pulled me into his dorm, which was a clean mess. It didn't smell but there was stuff all over the place and he closed the door. "So what the hell is this all about? Why are you crying?"

"Because," I sat on his unmade bed of dark blue and white sheets and inhaled a deep breath. "I missed you too. And I wanted to come and apologise."

He sat down beside me, scratching his heavily inked arm while he furrowed his brows in thought. "Apologise for what?"

"For being a bitch all the time. For not appreciating your dumb ass. Because you have no boundaries and some times you disgust me. But you're sort of wonderful and I know that you love me because you have always taken really good care of me and I'm sorry that I was so difficult and pushed you away for so long."

He sat, quiet with his elbows on his knees for a moment.

It was hard to spill all of that and I doubt it was something I would have done in the past. But I'd become quite good at sharing my feelings since I'd done it so damn often in rehab.

Eventually he straightened up and threw his arm around my shoulder, giving me a fat kiss on the head. "I know you love me, Abs. Never doubted it. But it's nice to hear that."

My lip started to quiver again.

"You're looking a lot healthier," he added. "Not so much like I could slide you under a door anymore."

"Lucas."

"I'm kidding," he ruffled my hair. "Wanna come upstairs? There's a gathering. Alcohol. Drugs. Penis if it's been a while?"

I winced. "I'm good. But thanks for the offer."

He stood up and slid his phone out of his pocket. "I'll text Mills and let her know you're here. She's upstairs waiting for me but she said I wasn't allowed to leave this room until I finished a paper that's due on Monday."

"Fuck I love her."

He started tapping out a text when the door flung open. "There were no coronas but I grabbed a Jack Daniels. Milly almost saw me but sh—"

My heart had stopped and I stared at Flynn standing in the middle of the room with a bottle hanging in his hand.