Lost in Hollywood

Secrets Unfold

When Hawk stepped into Sky's room, he realized Nicholas had been right on the phone. Sky was doing a lot better than the day before.

She was sitting in her bed, surrounded by stuffed animals - Hawk noticed the panda bear he had won for her at Valley Fest a million years ago, and the unicorn plushie he had given her when they had gotten back together last fall. Her clothes were clean - a loose black hoodie and leggings - she had showered, washed her hair, and there were pink spots of color on her cheeks. And even if it wasn't quite a smile that touched her lips when their eyes met, at least she was looking at him, acknowledging his presence.

A tight band that had been squeezing the air out of Hawk's lungs for days, snapped. He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"Hi," Sky said, her voice still dry and husky. "Come in, don't just stand there."

"You look good. Feeling any better?"

"Yeah," She ran a nervous hand through her hair, pushing the unruly curls behind her ear. "I even managed to eat something."

"I heard that your dad called a doctor last night. It helped?"

Hawk walked closer and took a seat on the bed. He wanted to sit as close to her as possible, to pull her into his arms, to hold her, but— something in her posture was stiff and tense, and he respected that, keeping a distance.

"She gave me something so I could sleep, so yeah, I guess it helped—-" She looked down and bit on her lower lip. "She said she could prescribe me something, to help me get over the worst part, but— I don't know."

"What, like opiates?" Hawk frowned.

"I guess. I mean— I slept last night. And I had— amazing dreams. So it can't be all bad, can it?" A short silence. "But on the other hand— I really don't want to start that stuff again. I fought so fucking hard to get clean, so..."

The end of that sentence drifted off, leaving Hawk uncertain of what he should say. Did he want Sky to do drugs again? Hell, no. But the stuff she had gotten last night had made her to sleep and eat and talk again, so as far as he was concerned, they had fucking saved her life.

He cleared his throat and turned his eyes to a small, leather-covered notebook she held in her lap. As soon as he had walked into the room, Sky had closed the book, and her fingers still lay on top of it, pressing it tight against her thighs.

"What are you writing?" he asked, changing the subject.

Sky shrugged and her fingers curled around the spine of the book.

"Nothing. Just... a diary kinda thing."

"Oh. I didn't know you kept a diary."

"I don't. It's just... something we used to do at rehab. Write it out, they would say. Or paint it out. And since I suck at painting— well, I gotta try something."

Right. Of course. The fact that she was up and about hardly meant she was over all the shit that had happened. Hawk swallowed and his eyes went back to the small notebook. A part of him wanted to ask if she would let him see, but the way she held the book with a white knuckle grip told him it was private. Besides, he knew she was writing about Cody. Would he really want to know the details?

Jealousy was a lot slower to die than people. It still lingered, no matter how much Hawk despised the feeling.

"I liked it at rehab, you know." Sky continued after a short and awkward silence. "The things we used to do there... they really helped. Dad asked if I'd like to go back. Not for drugs, obviously - but just to sort out my thoughts and feelings, you know. Just to get away from all this for a while. He called them. They said I could come."