Page 49 of Insidious

I stare ahead, focusing on the wall.

“I remember dancing with Amelie,” I say slowly. “And then … just waking up here.”

The words feel incomplete, like they belong to someone else.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a memory tugs before it floats away.

And somehow, my bullshit antenna is up.

He mutters something. I don’t catch it because my thoughts are already leapfrogging ahead, trying to fill in the gaps, trying to make sense of something I can’t quite reach.

“I fucked up,” he says louder. My hair is dry, and he is gently untangling the strands.

My mind is anything but settled. It is racing.

I know what comes next. He is going to fill in those missing pieces … telling me what I don’t remember.

And I have a feeling it’s going to break me.

His voice sounds like it is coming from far away, like he is in agony, like each word has to be forced out of him, like he has rehearsed this in his head and still doesn’t know how to say it.

“My problem has always been that I don’t say no. I should have told Chloe to fuck off that day in the hospital,” he says, his voice tortured and rough with regret. “I should never have let my mum … offer me up like some free sample every time Chloe needed something.” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief at himself. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I would have hated it if one of your exes came anywhere near you. It was my lack of boundaries. No one else’s fault, only mine. Mum took her cue from me.”

I stay quiet, my hands still in my lap, because I agree. This is a conversation I have tried to have with him many times.

“After that colossal disaster, you just shut down,” he continues. “You wouldn’t look at me. You didn’t want me in the same room. You didn’t want me near you. It felt like I lost an arm … or a leg.” His voice wobbles, then steadies again. “Then your parents came, and things got a little better. You were talking a bit, looking at me. And then they left, and it got worse again. Things got bad at work too. I tried for emergency leave. I did. I didn’t want things the way they were between us. I didn’t—” He lets out a breath. “I was too stupid, wasn’t I?”

Yes, you were, you donkey’s arse.

“You went out with Chloe,” I say, finishing it for him. “With your friends. I know you told me, but you must have known I wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Yeah. I did. I guess I hoped you would ask me not to go. And you didn’t seem bothered.” There is no hesitation. “It felt like I could breathe for a bit. It wasn’t just Chloe. It was Jack and Rowan. Chloe didn’t feel like … the version of her who lied.” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “She felt like my friend again. The one from when we were kids. Jumping fences, skinning knees. Just … my friend.”

My fingers tighten in my lap to stop myself from flipping him the bird. Because that would be childish.

“She kept messaging,” he goes on. “Checking in. Asking about you, about the baby. Sending … encouraging stuff. And I told her I was scared.” He swallows. “That you were pulling away. That you didn’t need me anymore. I should have come to you with that. I know. But you weren’t in a good place, and I …” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know who to talk to.”

The words sit between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know who else to ask,” he says. “I had Mum help around the house, even though you were still mad at both of us. I was looking for a nanny, I swear. And that night you …” He pauses as if looking for an escape route, then forces himself to continue. “I didn’t want to come home. I should have been home two hours earlier, but I stayed out. Because I had already done something stupid.”

Coldness seeps into my aching heart.

“Chloe had been messaging me,” he says. “On and off. She was low … said she’d broken up with her boyfriend before she moved here six months ago, and I—” He exhales shakily. “I made a mistake.”

I already know this isn’t going anywhere good.

“She said she dreams about me,” he continues, quieter now. “About how close we used to be. How she misses us before she made a mistake. She said she was depressed and suicidal and that she had nobody.” Isaac stops for a long moment, as if he is standing at the edge of a precipice. “And I messaged back … I said, I still dream about you. A little white lie to make her feel better, I thought.”

The words feel like a slap on the face.

“I didn’t mean it like—I wasn’t thinking about being with her or anything like that,” he hurries to say. “I wasn’t. I deleted it straight after. But I think … I think you saw it.” His voice drops. “And that’s why … That’s why …” He shakes his head, unable to finish. “Was that why, Luna? I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. And then I was scared to come home because you know I can’t keep a secret. I thought I would tell you what a complete loser I have been, and then you’d throw me out.”

“Luna …” He tries again.

I don’t look up immediately. I’m staring at my hands, watching the tears fall onto them without even knowing when they started. For a long, tense moment, I say nothing. Then, I lift my head and meet his eyes, and whatever he is looking for in mine, he doesn’t find.

“Get out,” I say as I look around for a weapon.