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“Elijah,” she breathes.
61
Snow
I’ve never been much for wallowing. Usually when I feel out of control or my emotions overwhelm me, I find the closest bottle of alcohol and drown my sorrows until I can’t feel the pain anymore. It’s not my healthiest trait admittedly, but it’s always worked for me.
But this time I can’t bring myself to move from my bed. I’ve been here for days, or at least I think I have. The blinds have remained drawn, and my only indication of time passing is when Wynter brings me meals I don’t touch.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom in the past, but surely this is it. Surely there isn’t anywhere lower than where I am right now.
The door creaks open and my sister sighs from the doorway. I think she’s expecting me to snap out of this sooner or later, but if anything, I’m getting deeper into the pit of despair each time she comes in.
Light footsteps grow closer to the bed, and a moment later, the mattress dips beside me. Silence fills the room like she isn’t quite sure what to say to me or how to approach me, but eventually she sighs and says, “You have to snap out of this.”
I ignore her. She may not remember, but when Everett left her, she didn’t get out of bed for two weeks. So I can sympathize with how worried she is right now, but I still have time to wallow before the socially acceptable window closes.
“He’s not leaving you, Snow,” Wynter says softly, her fingers brushing across my cheek gently. “I spoke to Everett, and he swore black and blue this is only about keeping you safe.”
“For now,” I murmur.
She sighs. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No.”
“Has he called?”
“Yes.”
“And why aren’t you answering him?”
I pause for a moment, unsure if I want to admit the reason I’ve allowed so many calls to go to voice mail and haven’t been brave enough to check any of the ones he’s left. “Because if I don’t speak to him, he can’t end things. At least if he just has divorce papers delivered, he won’t see or hear me break.”
Another stretch of silence allows me to burrow farther into my blankets. She doesn’t normally stay long, not after the first day. She tried talking to me, about Elijah, about the baby, about work. She even tried to talk about celebrity gossip because that’s usually my kryptonite. But at some point, I think she decided it was doing me more harm than good.
“Let’s go,” she finally says, standing up from the bed and pushing the blankets from me.
“Go where?”
“To see Elijah.”
“No way.” If I didn’t want him to break up with me over the phone, why the hell would I put myself in a position for him to break my heart in front of him?
“Up, now.” She tugs the blankets back until they’re out of my reach and I’m finally forced to open my eyes. The dim room is too light for me after days on end in the dark, and I quickly slam them shut again. “I mean it, Snow. Get up right this minute, or I will not hesitate to throw a bucket of water on you.”
“I was shot,” I remind her.
“I’ve already called Doc to ask if it would hinder your recovery in any way.”
“You premeditated throwing water on me?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes. Now do as I say, or I will not hesitate to do it.”
I huff and force my stiff body into a sitting position. The only time I’ve been out of bed since I came back to the estate is to use the restroom, and seeing as I’m not eating, and I’m spending most of my days asleep and not drinking water, even that isn’t often. “We can’t leave the house, Wynter.”
“Of course we can.” She looks around the room until she finds what she’s looking for and crosses to the far wall to get whatever it is.
“No, we can’t. We’re on complete lockdown.”
