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I won’t let it.
I can’t.
Reality sort of wobbles, tilting, and I’m acutely aware of Eva all but screaming into the table. As if Morris didn’t already break the news to her. As if she’s losing her daughter for the first time all over again.
My head is shaking, and there’s a gasping sound coming from next to me where Waylon’s fighting furiously to keep it together. And the next thing I know, my head’s snapping to Jeremy.
And he’s looking right at me.
One beat passes.
Two.
“You can still feel her, can’t you?”
At my softly uttered plea, the room plunges into silence. Even Eva’s cries simmer to choked whimpers.
Jeremy’s eyes widen, and he’s shaking his head.
“Wh-what?” his mom stutters, and in the corner of my eye, I catch her lifting her red, blotchy face. But I don’t tear my gaze away from Jeremy.
I nod, telling him, “It’s okay. Tell them what you told me. Tell them.”
His head rocks from side to side with quick jerky movements.
“Jeremy? Bubs, what is he talking about?” Eva says thickly, her voice shredded.
Reddened amber eyes drag from me toward the head of the table. Still, I can’t tear my gaze from his face, as I say, “He can feel her. She’s alive. He knows it.”
I sense more than see Detective Morris watching us, warily observing as things unfold.
“Jeremy?” Ray says in a deep, worried voice.
My chin quivers. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
But Jeremy’s still shaking his head, and his eyes are filling, his face scrunching up. And he says, “I don’t feel anything. I’m sorry. I don’t feel anything.”
Over and over and over again, he chants this.
And my chest is splitting right down the middle.
“You’re lying.”
I don’t even realize the words came from me, until his eyes screw shut with a wince.
“You’re lying!” I shout, making him flinch back.
“Mas—”
I don’t know who tries to get my attention. I don’t care. No one and nothing else can exist for all I care right now. It’s just me and Jeremy and the wrathful desperation bowling forward, that has me lunging forward. “YOU’RE LYING!”
Dimly, I’m aware of Eva’s sobbing—louder than ever—and Ray’s shout as he goes to round the table and get between us. Waylon’s huddled in the corner, and if I was a better person—a stronger person, a more selfless person—one who’s sober and not breaking apart at the seams I’ve been so desperate to keep secure…
I’d realize what I’m doing to him.
To Ray and Eva.
To Jeremy…
