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“I know it’s hard.”
I snort. “That’s the understatement of the year. He’s lonely and probably hurt, Mom. We need to find him.”
“They will, but in the meantime, you have to keep living.”
Uncovering myself, I glare at Mom. If looks could kill, I might’ve killed my mother by accident. “How?”
“Anger, we finally step into the second stage of grief,” she calmly says. “I don’t know if that’s good.”
“I’m not in denial, Mom. He’s alive. I’m angry because no one is letting me go and search for him.” I hide under my comforter again.
“They’ll find him. Meanwhile, you have to continue your life.”
“How?” I ask with a calmer tone.
“One breath at a time,” she says. The bed sinks on the left side. I guess she’s going to give me another lecture. “Pipe, this path, the one you’re about to take, won’t be smooth. It’s going to be hard to survive it. But you’re strong enough to do it.”
She’s wrong. I’m not.
“It feels like I’m dying,” I sob, and I hate how easily I cry. That’s why I can’t be the person everyone expects. It’s just so hard to breathe without him.
Tobewithout him.
I don’t think I can exist anymore.
“I would give anything to take this pain away, Ladybug,” Mom whispers.
“Just bring him back to me,” I beg between sobs.
“He’ll come back,” she assures me. Instead of making me move, Mom lies next to me, hugging me and letting me cry.
ChapterThree
Piper
April 3rd
One month.
After his disappearance, Archer’s mother organizes a funeral. She sends me the invitation with an RSVP. I decline, reminding her he’s still alive.
She sends me a note letting me know that I’m wrong and she needs to let him go.
I don’t reply to her note. When he returns, she’ll have to work hard to make amends with him—I won’t help her.
Maybe I’m being too harsh, but shouldn’t a mother have more faith in her son’s fate?
Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only person who believes Archer will return.
My family and Archer’s are pretty close, and because of their friendship, all the Deckers go to the funeral. I pretend I’m going too, but instead, I drive to our house in Seattle.
It’s only thirty minutes from my parents’ place. The last time we were here was the day before he left for the mission. This house was our future. The plan was to spend our twenties in New York and move close to our family when we were ready to have babies.
Still, we furnished it and decorated it as if we lived here full-time.
When I enter through the garage, the scent of home hits me right in the chest. It still smells like chocolate and vanilla. It’s been three months since he last made pancakes and baked chocolate muffins that would last me at least six months. He left a lot of them in the freezer. I only took a few with me to New York.
God, I can’t believe it’s been three months without him.
