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I grimace. “Jesus, Squirrel, hold the overshare.”
She laughs quietly, the sound both tired and sad.
“I missed you, too,” I tell her.
“How’s your mom? Your dad? How areyou?”
“Shit,” I answer honestly. “We’re all shit.”
I rub at my eyes, worsening the dry, itchy feeling.
“Stop.” She reaches out to pull my hand away. “They’re already red.”
My breath catches, and I shake my head in annoyance. “I knew this was coming, Henley.”
“It probably makes it worse. You’ve been grieving her slowly for over two years. Now that you’re finally allowed to grieve openly, it’s hitting you all at once. Bottled-up feelings are like Mentos in Diet Coke.”
Maybe it’s my grief, but I want to touch her again. I want her to wrap her arms around me and soothe my soul.
“How did you know I was here?” I move my thoughts away from the confusing and ill-timed thoughts of my overzealous mind.
“When I dropped my stuff off at your house and you weren’t there, I took an educated guess.”
I pull her into my body, my arm resting over her shoulder as I bring her in close.
“Your mom thought you might’ve been with Evelyn,” she tests quietly.
Fuck.
“You’re staying with me, yeah?”
She nods, letting me ignore her statement. “Yeah.”
“We’re just seeing each other,” I confess. “It’s nothing serious.”
I feel guilt like I’ve never felt before. Like I’ve broken her trust.
“It’s not my business.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Everything to do with me is your business.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her voice is small and wounded, and I hate myself for it.
“It seemed irrelevant then.”
“And now?” she murmurs.
She breathes in, and I exhale.
I exhale, and she inhales heavily.
“I don’t know.” I finally answer.
I want to beg her to stay. Her home is here with me. But I’m petrified because I know she has to say no.
11
