Page 113 of Let’s Be Real

Kelly took a step toward me, and I dodged her, walking straight to my front door. Only then did I face her.

“It’s time for you to go.”

Her mouth fell open. “I don’t want to. You have to understand, I can’t be like you.”

“You can. You won’t.” I opened the door—my only regret being that I hadn’t done it sooner. “Please go now.”

She approached the foyer, wringing her hands in front of her. “I hate leaving this way.”

I looked out into the night, pulling in breath after breath. I’d always thought if I’d ever gotten the guts to put my foot down, I’d drown in grief. I’d thought it would hurt in an impossibly unbearable way.

But in one final decision, the burden of trying and trying and trying for my family was lifted.

“I’m done.”

Kelly lifted her head as she shoved her feet into her shoes. “What does that mean?”

“I’m really done.”

Her eyes met mine, glimmering with confusion before understanding slowly slid in. And behind it, a surprising wave of sadness.

“You’re done,” she echoed.

After picking up her purse and phone, she took another long look at me. My heart pinched, but I didn’t doubt my decision for a fraction of a second.

Kelly stepped onto the porch and turned back, looking at me like she was waiting for me to change my mind or make things easier. Like I always did.

Instead, I made things easier for me.

“Goodbye, Kell.” I gently closed the door.

The lock clicked into place. It was the smallest sound. The loudest ending.

I stood there for another second, staring at the door, expecting the grief I’d spent my whole life dreading to finally crush me.

But there was nothing but more relief.

The first person I wanted to tell was Nate.

I smiled as I imagined him telling me how proud he was of me and wrapping me in a bear hug. Then he’d undoubtedly look me over and make sure I was really okay.

I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed my phone from the charger.

The flashing notification that I’d missed two calls from Nate and another for a voicemail brought me up short. He never left voicemails.

I pressed play on the message.

“I’m sorry, Samantha. Sammie. I’m really sorry.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but I couldn’t say why.

“I really love you. You know that, right?”

He paused.

“I wish you were here…but I should sleep. I need to get some sleep.”

His voice echoed, like he was in the bathroom.