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After losing my mum in the accident that left me scarred and ruined, I thought I knew pain and loss. But this feels different. Even though I’ve had years to prepare, losing my father has broken something inside me. Fractured me apart in ways I can’t even fathom.
It wasn’t time.
We didn’t have enough time.
Yet, he’s gone.
He left me.
And now I’m alone.
“You’re not,” Liv says, and I realise I must have said that last part aloud. “You have me and Tally and Raine. The boys too. And Elliot?—”
I go still at the mention of his name.
Elliot Eaton.
The boy I’ve spent weeks fantasising about. Falling for the idea that there could be something between us, that maybe the strange tug I feel in his presence was reciprocated. That, maybe if, one day, I was brave enough to pull on that tether, he would pull back.
He didn’t.
And I should have known. I should have known that someone like me wouldn’t be the kind of girl Elliot Eaton wants.
At least if one good thing came from all of this… this hurt, it’s that we can pretend it never happened.
We can pretend I didn’t kiss him that night.
“Abi?” Liv gently nudges my arms, pulling me from my maudlin thoughts. “Tell me what you need.”
“I want to sleep,” I whisper over the hoarseness of my throat.
“But the wake?—”
“Tell them, I’m sorry. But I can’t. I can’t go down there.”
“Do you want to stay here? I can take you back to my house or?—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” The lie turns the air thick and heavy. But she doesn’t argue.
Instead, Liv helps pull back the covers and gets me settled. “I’ll stay with you,” she says, but I shake my head.
“Alone. I want to be alone.”
Another lie.
But one I need to tell to shore my defences, to protect myself. Because while she might be my friend, while they all might be my friends, one day, they’ll leave.
Just like everybody I love does.
* * *
“Abigail, I’m so very sorry for your loss,” Mr Porter says.
“Thank you. Is my room ready?”
“Abigail, I?—”
“Please, Mr Porter, I can’t stay in the house. I can’t… be there.” Panic floods my voice as blood roars in my ears.
