My eyes fluttered shut as I steadied myself. When I opened them again, Sully’s tortured gaze was on me, and when I spoke, my voice sounded pinched. “I really appreciate that you want to help, but…”
I couldn’t get myself to say the words aloud. All I could manage was a shake of my head.
Thankfully, Sully gave in.
“Okay. Okay, El.” He threw his hands up in defeat before taking another step toward me, and I thought he might pull me into his arms. But all he did was lean forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead. “Will you at least call me if you need me?”
He lingered there, with his lips on my forehead. When I didn’t respond, he pressed closer, and desperation leaked into his voice when my name slipped through his lips.
“Eleanor?”
Another plea.
“Okay,” I promised. “I’ll call.”
And then he was gone.
Within seconds of the front door closing, I was throwing up again.
Sprawled on the bathroom floor.
Alone.
And even though I was pretty sure I needed him, I didn’t call.
eight years ago
SULLY
“I need a new phone,” I groaned after Ellie’s face froze for the fourth time during our video call. When she came back to me, she was still chatting away about a coding club she’d joined on campus. They were building some sort of app, but I’d been struggling to keep up with the details when she cut out between every sentence.
“What?” She paused her rambling at the look on my face.
I shook my head. “Nothing. My phone’s just being dysfunctional again.”
A light laugh filtered through the speakers, and for a second, I let it wrap around me. Fuck, I missed that laugh. Sure, I heard it over the phone plenty, but the number of times I actually got tofeelit had been reduced significantly.
God, I couldn’t wait for this year to be over.
School was annoying again.
Ellie was gone. My brothers were gone. Cooper was gone. I mean, they weren’t far, but they weren’there, either.
I had a few friends in my grade, but not many. Every day felt like an unnecessary punishment. I wished my teachers would just give me the rest of the schoolwork I’d need to graduate, and I could bang it out in a weekend, turn it all in, and be done with this.
But my mother informed me that I needed to let my senior year play out for theexperience.
When I’d asked her why she wanted to subject her son to the experience of torture, she had not been amused.
It was just weird, being the only one here. The house was quiet. Mom and Dad had been quiet, almost weirdly so. And Ellie had been quiet. Because, well, she no longer lived across the street.
It wasn’t her fault, of course.
“Maybe I should just come over,” I said to Ellie, and she gave me a face.
“Sawyer, baby, it’s ten o’clock on a school night.”
“I don’t need sleep,” I argued. “And I don’t need school, either.”
