Page 613 of End Game

I don't have to ask.

I don't have to decide where it goes.

Something in me goes loose again.

Fuck.

Maybe that's what this is.

Not the pain.

Not exactly.

The absence of all the tiny decisions that normally stack on top of one another until I don't even notice I'm carrying them.

Where to put the bottle.

Whether I should sit up.

Whether Ronan is comfortable with my weight on him.

Whether I am taking too long to come back.

Whether Cami and Griffin can hear us from upstairs.

Whether Dex will worry when he gets home and realizes I'm not in my room.

Whether Mom—

The thought surfaces like something breaking through water.

My chest clamps down around it.

Ronan's hand moves from my arm to the center of my chest.

I breathe against his palm.

Mom crying on the couch.

Dad opening the door.

You're welcome back when you're ready to change your ways.

The pain across my thighs throbs.

My brain grabs that instead.

Not because it hurts more.

Because it is simpler.

I chose this pain.

I know where it came from.

I know who gave it to me.

I know he stopped.