Page 75 of Head Under Water

I hug her too. The warmth of her arms comforts me, even if it’s fleeting. “Promise me you won’t answer the door if you are alone. And if you see the blue truck, I want you to call us.”

She scowls as she pulls back. “Oh, Opal. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Promise me,” I say again, more firmly this time.

“Fine. I promise.”

“We’ll take care of her,” Cory says, eyes locked on mine. He hugs Will, then we split up, saying one final round of goodbyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

PRESENT DAY

I follow Will back to his place. He’s still in a daze as we make our way inside, and I’m not sure how to comfort him. I’m not even sure if I can. My chest is tight, my full body aching with worry I don’t know how to share. A weight I want to carry alone.

He disappears down the hall, and I run myself a bath. I sink into the water until it touches my chin, refusing to blink even as my eyes dry out and my vision goes blurry. I’m perfectly still in the steam. The warm water does nothing to thaw the ice in my chest.

Later, in the kitchen, the apartment is still quiet. I make us both avocado toast and eat mine alone. As the minutes tick by and he still hasn’t come out, I take his plate and approach his bedroom cautiously.

When he doesn’t answer my knock, I ease the door open. “Will?”

Maybe he’s asleep.

Instead, I find him in bed, still dressed and staring blankly into space. His shoulders are tense, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. I step into the room, the weight of his terror palpable.

I move forward with quiet steps around the shoes he kicked off haphazardly and sink onto the cool concrete floor next to his bed, running my palm gently over his arm. His eyes flick to mine.

“Are you hungry? I made toast.”

One side of his mouth draws in like he’s trying to smile, but it’s too much effort. His face falls flat again. “So, I guess this is what it takes for you to cook for me.”

The joke catches me by surprise. The old Will is still in there somewhere. A tiny flicker of the boy I know beneath this pain.

“Don’t get used to it.” I try to tease him back, but my tone is delicate. We’re porcelain I’m afraid I’ll shatter.

I don’t know how to be with this version of Will. We aren’t raw and exposed. We are buttoned up. Armored from every angle.

He sits up and takes the plate, biting into a slice of toast like it hurts his jaw to do so. His movements are so slow and careful. His tongue runs over the spot of avocado on his lip.

Everything feels fragile now, propped up against a reality that could collapse at any second.

A single phone call, and everything will be different.

I’ll lose him.

In minutes, his two slices of toast are gone.

“Can I make you something else?”

He shakes his head, his eyes soft as they watch me. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know? You should get some sleep.”

“I’m fine. It’s just toast.” I stand, taking his plate. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

His nod is small as he lies back down. I turn, moving across the room, but just as I reach the door, I hear his voice.

“Hey.”

I stop.