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“I’ll get it.” Ryder gives me one last concerned look before jogging downstairs. All I can do is bounce up and down on the balls of my feet and shake my hands out and hope I can get through this without puking or sobbing or both.
Considering my track record lately, it’s not looking too good.
28
HARLOW
It’s now or never. I have to get this over with. I walk slowly downstairs, psyching myself up, breathing deeply. I can do this. I’m in control here. Whatever happens, happens. But they love me. I believe that. And I love them. And I know that’s enough to get us through this.
At the very least, I hope with all my heart that it is.
“Man, if you want a ride to the airport in the morning, you can’t bring me out here at this time of night.” Good to know Ash is in his typical pleasant mood. This does not give me much confidence.
“For real.” Even Soren sounds irritable, which is unusual. “I mean, we’ll miss you and everything, but does this require a late night visit?”
“This wasn’t my idea. Don’t take it out on me.” When he hears my footsteps, Ryder looks up from the entryway, and so do the others.
“Holy shit. Are you all right?” Right away, Ash meets me at the foot of the stairs, and all his complaints are forgotten.
“Here’s a hot tip. Don’t say that kind of thing with so much horror on your face unless you want to make a girl feel really bad about herself.” I’m smiling as much as I can, hoping to ease his worries before I inevitably set them off all over again. I mean, I don’t expect any of them to be thrilled. I know they’ll be alright, that in the end we’ll all be okay, but I’m not deluded. There won’t be any singing and dancing over this announcement.
“No offense,” Soren offers with a wince. “But you’ve looked better. Did this dipshit say something to upset you?” He jerks his thumb toward Ryder, who growls.
“Don’t look at me,” he insists, raising his hands into the air. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s bothering her ever since she showed up here out of nowhere.”
“Why don’t we go to the living room?” I suggest, because doing this here seems wrong somehow. And I get the feeling they should be sitting down, just in case. I can’t imagine anybody, like, fainting… but I’m not trying to tempt fate, either. It wouldn’t be much fun trying to explain to Coach Kozak how somebody ended up with a concussion after bouncing their head off the floor.
Soren narrows his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”
“For heaven’s sake. If you’re in such a hurry to get this over with, maybe you should stop arguing with me.”
“Let’s just go.” Ryder waves us through the house. I couldn’t be more grateful, since I’m not sure what I would do if they offeredmore resistance. I might blurt out the news just to shock them into listening.
Ash flops down on the sofa – he will not be satisfied until everybody knows just how annoyed he is at being dragged out here with no explanation. Soren sits at the other end, leaning forward like he is literally on the edge of his seat. For once, he’s not joking around, being sarcastic. Maybe he senses how important this is.
Ryder lowers himself into a leather easy chair before sighing softly. “We’re here. And I’ve been going crazy, trying to figure out what it is you want to say.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I worried you. I don’t want to worry anybody. Especially at a time like this, with everything changing and in flux.”
Ash scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re starting to freak me out. What’s the matter?”
“Let her talk and she’ll tell you,” Ryder mutters.
“Wow, Dad. Thanks for the advice.”
This is going nowhere. I need to get a grip on myself and force the words out, or else I will never get the courage together. “Please. You’re not helping.” I stare at Ash until he groans and rolls his eyes. “This isn’t easy for me to say.”
“Just spit it out.” Someone’s watching me closely, studying me. His gaze is so intense, I wonder if he somehow knows what I’m trying to confess.
He’s right. All I have to do is spit it out. Just put it out there in the open and get it over with. The chips will fall where the chips fall. No matter what happens, I can handle it.
Or so I tell myself before my stomach decides to start doing cartwheels. All at once my throat fills, and I know my mouth is next before I clap a hand over it and look around wildly.
A hand clamped over the mouth is pretty much the international symbol forI’m about to puke my guts up, and I need somewhere to put it.
“Shit!” Ryder jumps to his feet like he wants to help but I can’t wait for that. My body takes over and I run for the stairs, pounding up them before I throw myself toward the bathroom next to Ryder’s room.
Well. I wanted to break the news, right? This is as good a way as any to do it, I guess. Not exactly dignified, but dignity is not exactly my highest priority right now. Not when I’m too busy focusing on getting all of my vomit into the toilet and not all over myself.
