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“Let’s talk about this,” Mom says.
I shake my head. “We were fighting over the music, and I—I can’t . . .” I’m suffocating.
Dad’s expression changes. “You what?” He moves closer to me, hands on my shoulders.
I can’t breathe. I have to get out of this room. Before I have time to think, I take off running.
“Becca!” Mom calls after me.
I don’t stop. I run down our stairs, not even taking the time to properly put on my shoes. I don’t stop running until I’m outside, pounding on Caleb’s door.
My fist hits again and again and again.
I don’t know why, but at this moment, he’s the only person I can run to.
The door flies open, and Caleb is there. Every ounce of anger from earlier melts away from his eyes when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”
I collide into him, burying my face against his chest to muffle my sobs. He staggers back, but I cling to him. His heart speeds up.
And, after a brief hesitation, his arms wrap around me tightly, holding me together.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
My chest heaves.I can’t see anything through my tears. The room is one big blur, everything melting into each other.
I sob against Caleb, soaking his shirt and leaving smudges of mascara behind.
He stays completely still, except for the soft and steady patting of his hand on my back.
I can’t seem to get the image of Ethan lifeless face out of my head. It’s been written in permanent marker and can’t be scrubbed away.
My shoulders start to shake.
“Hey,” Caleb says in a soft voice. “You’re going to be okay.”
I cry harder. “I was—they were . . .”
I don’t deserve to be okay.
He tries to take a step back, but I won’t let him budge. He’s the only glue stopping me from falling apart.
“They were packing up his room,” I sob.
“Look at me,” he says, moving his hands from my back to cupping my face. He rubs my tears away with his thumbs.
More tears come, immediately replacing the previous ones. My eyelids are heavy, and it’s easier to keep them shut than to try and make eye contact.
“Focus on me, not what’s in your head,” he whispers.
“I can’t,” I sob.
“Yes, you can. You’re a strong person. You can do hard things.”
I pry my eyes open. Caleb is inches away, staring into me with his deep brown eyes.
“Tell me what you see,” he says.
He becomes the center of my attention. There’s a faint scar just above his cheekbone that traces up toward his eye, and his dimples attempt to show with every word leaving his mouth.
