“No, uh, nothing happened. I was born like this.” I take an uneven breath. “I don’t like the medicine, so I just… deal with it.”
“There are other ways to cope,” he tells me, not missing a beat. “Have you tried a naturopath? Has anything at all made you feel better?”
“Yeah,” I find myself admitting, “something did. But it’s over now, and I’m back to… well, struggling.”
Now Julian does pause, his breath coming out a bit unsteady.
Then, he asks, “Are you talking about Barfred? Was he… did he make you feel better?”
Emotion wells up inside of me: heartbreak, anger, longing, and agony. My body feels flooded with it, heavy and far away as my throat closes and my skin prickles with goosebumps.
I don’t want to answer this question. I refuse to acknowledge it right now.
“How’s working in the castle? Still enjoying it?” I refrain from asking personal questions about his relationship. I wouldn’t necessarily be bothered by its existence in general, but I don’t want to hear about how sickly in love he is while I’m struggling.
Julian sighs again, and this time it’s a disappointed one. “Yeah, I love it here. The other day—”
Shuffling on the other end of the line interrupts his sentence, and before long, I hear a sweet, soft voice call out.
“Julie? Why aren’t you holding me?” The sound of Atlas’s gentle, sleepy voice stirs a violent jealousy inside of me.
I remember being where he is, rolling over to search for Nate when I’d wake up in the middle of the night without his arms around me.
“Sorry, little bunny. I’m on the phone with Landon. Just go back to sleep; I’ll come hold you soon,” Julian placates. I can tell that he’s covering the receiver, aiming for privacy, but I can hear it all anyway.
“M’kay,” Atlas says dreamily, and a moment later, the shuffling stops.
“Sorry,” Julian offers, and there’s humor in his voice. “I woke up Atlas.”
“I’ll let you get back to bed.” I feel torn up inside now, remembering everything that I’ve lost.
“You sure?” Julian asks.
“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll call you again sometime.”
He takes a deep, steadying breath, then says, “Alright. And Lan, I know it’s not my place to say, but whatever happened between you and Barfed? It can be fixed. He’s clearly just as torn up as you are, and I—”
“Thanks, Jules,” I interrupt. “Good night.”
“Ah, okay. Good night.”
I hang up the phone, tossing it onto the bed next to me.
Spending even a single moment thinking of Nate is a bad idea. There is no way to forgive something so terrible, and I don’t think he’sthatstressed out. I mean, I didn’t block him—he just hasn’t called.
If he cared enough, he would call, right?
But on the bright side of this terrible night, I talked to Julian. There was no sappy apology or heartfelt conversation, but there wasn’t a need for one.
Everything that had needed to be said was already shared in the foyer of Chastain Castle, only so long ago; we just needed to get over this hump. And hopefully, we have.
Now, if only I could get overthisspecific hump: the one that starts with Nate and ends with heartbreak.
Nathaniel
22
I’M STANDING IN THEkitchen as the intervention starts. Whatever has possessed these boys to square their shoulders and confront me, I want to find it and strangle it with my bare hands.
