Page 137 of I’m The Worst

Instead, she’s curled up next to me in fucking bed, wearing my clothes, asking me to touch her like I’m something safe. Looking at me like I’m more than what I am.

My teeth grind, my nerves stripped raw.

She doesn’t understand what happens to people who get close to me.

They die.

Or I ruin them so badly they wish that they had.

The rain pours harder, soaking through my clothes while I stare into the black water below. Jake thought I’d protect us all someday. Instead, I killed half of them. And now AJ looks at me the same fucking way he used to.

Like there’s still something worth saving in me.

Another wave crashes against the ship.

I close my eyes briefly. Because the worst part—the part making my chest feel like it’s splitting open—is that for the first time in years…

I almost want her to be right.

Iwake up alone.

The bed is cold where he was lying, the blankets tangled around my legs while steady rain taps softly against the porthole. The storm finally broke sometime during the night.

For the first time in months…

I’m going home.

The thought should make me happy.

It should feel relieving after everything that happened. I should be counting down the seconds until I’m back in Chicago with my family, where things will be normal again.

But the second the thought settles, another follows right behind it.

What if nothing feels normal anymore?

My stomach twists.

I sit up slowly, my body aching in ways that make heat creep into my cheeks. Shame and desire fighting for dominance inside me. Every movement reminds me of last night. I close my eyes, pressing my hand against my throat, remembering his hand wrapped around my neck.

Something flutters in my chest.

It felt…real.

The way he touched me.

The way he looked at me.

The way he kissed me like he couldn’t stop himself.

The way he opened up about his brother.

He actually told me something real about himself. The memory makes something warm and hopeful bloom within my chest.

The bathroom door stands slightly open, steam still clinging to the mirror inside.

I stare at it for a second too long.

Then I grab his shirt off the floor and pull it over my head before slipping out of bed. My legs wobble slightly when I stand, my body achy and sore as I cross the small cabin and lean against the bathroom doorway.