Page 80 of Unraveled

“I need to confirm you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why don’t I believe you?”

“Please go home.”

“Promise you’ll call me tomorrow.”

“I promise.” When I heard his retreating footsteps and could no longer see him through the peephole, I finally let out my breath.

I was on my way to brush my teeth and get some sleep when my phone went off. It was Russ. What was this? I needed to be alone, and everyone was calling. Besides, I’d already texted Russ tonight with my promised welfare check-in. After sending his call to voicemail, I fired off a text to him.

“Am getting ready for bed. Will talk to you tomorrow.”

“How about you talk to me now?”

There would be only one reason he’d insist. Because Kellan had spoken with him. They were ganging up on me.

“No, thanks. Good night.” Although it wasn’t my most mature action, I silenced my phone. I couldn’t deal with Russ or Kellan tonight. Was it too much to ask to be left alone one night for my pity party? I didn’t think so. But evidently, I was alone in this belief. The next thing I heard was the sound of a key in my lock and the front door opening.

Kellan wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t use his key to come in after I’d told him not to. He wouldn’t ignore my wishes. But he would, I realized, when his voice called out. “Layla.”

Panic set in, and I slammed the bathroom door shut, flipping the door lock. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother said you wouldn’t answer his call.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. Why can’t either of you understand that?” My voice was near hysteria now.

“Because we’re both worried.”

“And I told you not to be.”

He tried the bathroom handle and found it locked. “Babe. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Jon Snow,” I whispered.

“What?”

My voice got louder. “I said Jon Snow. You gave it to me as my safe word, and I’m using it now. Please leave, Kellan. Please.”

“Did you start to lose your hair?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by his guess. After all, he’d been reading up about my treatments. I didn’t answer. Instead, I sat on the floor, my knees to my chest, and my back pressed against the cool porcelain tub.

“I’m sorry. I know you told me you need space, but I can’t help being concerned. And if it is your hair, it’ll grow. It’ll be okay.”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to tell me how to feel right now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to. I’m at a loss, though, as to what to say or do here.”

My tears started to flow. I wished more than anything I could put things into perspective. But that was the thing about rock bottom. There were no straws to grasp, and no logic to be found.

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“You promised. You promised you’d give me space when I needed it.”

I heard his curse. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line. But I’m worried about you. I care about how—”