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With the door open, we stop when Mom speaks again.
“I highly suggest you find yourself a job and a new apartment.” With those final, biting words, I walk out of my childhood home for the last time, somehow feeling like less than when I entered. I thought I was past the point of being hurt by her, but I guess not.
We get in the car, and Jordan plugs my phone into her car charger, then pulls away from the house and down the street. The screen lights up, and once it loads my lock screen, the notifications go crazy. Missed calls, voicemails, text messages, mostly from Asher.
I let out a sob and lift it to unlock the screen. I don’t open the messages, just find his number and call him back. With every ring, doubt creeps in. Am I doing the right thing, or am I just making everything worse? Cutting off contact all at once is easier, right? Will I just cause him more pain by coming back, just to walk away again?
My eyes shut when his voicemail picks up. I don’t leave a message, just hang up. And sink into the seat. I guess that’s my answer.
How much pain can one person suffer and not die? I guess I’m going to find out. I thought Asher had taken my heart, ripped it right out of my fucking chest while it still beat, yet it aches. Every bone in my body thrumming with the sorrow of being rejected. Again.
Jordan doesn’t say anything, just reaches for my hand and holds it while we drive back to my apartment.
“You should come stay with me until you get on your feet,” she says as she parks in the underground garage for my building.
“I don’t know,” I mumble and slink from the car, too defeated to care about anything else. I just want to sleep for the next week, or month maybe. What was the point of all of this? Why give me a peek into what real happiness could be like if it was just going to be taken away from me again? How is that fair?
A single tear slips down my cheek, and this time, I don’t wipe it away. Jordan wraps an arm around my waist again and pulls me against her as we ride the elevator up to my floor.
“Were all those notifications from him?” she asks once we’ve gotten inside.
I just nod and drop down onto the couch, pulling a blanket from the back to wrap around myself.
“And you called and he didn’t answer?” She sits next to me and lifts my head so I can use her thigh as a pillow.
I nod again, closing my eyes when she runs her fingers through my hair.
“I’m betting there’s a lot going on right now for him. He might not have heard the phone or was on the other line with someone else to make arrangements.” What she says makes sense, and a tiny spark of hope appears in my chest, but I’m terrified of it. Having hope leads to disappointment, which leaves more pain.
But what if he’s done with me? I didn’t answer his messages, so he’s finally stopped trying. Given up. I don’t know where he is, so it’s not like I can show up and check on him or send Jordan to do it. I know she would if I asked her to.
Jordan turns on the TV and starts upArcherwith the volume down. I watch a few episodes before my eyes get heavy, but before I can fall asleep, a thought hits me. Asher would be at his dad’s house, right?
Sitting up, I look at Jordan with my thoughts going in a million different directions.
“Are you up for a drive?”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Asher
Ipassed out when my face hit the bed, but I’ve been half awake for a while. Dozing in and out of consciousness for hours or minutes, I don’t know. I’m cold and exhausted and alone in my old bedroom. I didn’t think I would ever sleep in here again.
My head is still buzzing with the scotch, and I’m floating. My eyes aren’t open, and it almost feels like I’m sleeping, but I have a train of thought, though it’s slow. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but since I can think, it must have been for a few hours, not that it really matters. Thinking and sobriety is overrated anyway. Maybe I should get another drink.
Something is pulling me toward consciousness. I shift and shove the pillow under my head.
“Asher!” a panicked yell echoes in the empty house.Why is Eli yelling?
Eli?
My eyes spring open, and I jerk upright as he appears in the doorway, and my heart just about leaps from my chest. My boy.
“Asher,” he breathes, halfway to hysterical. He launches himself at me and straddles my lap. My arms automatically pull him tighter into me, and I breathe in the scent of his skin as he wraps his body around mine. Relief eases the pressure in my chest just enough to calm the urge to burn the world to the ground.
“Eli.” I splay my hands over his back, touching as much of him as I possibly can. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” My body shudders at the heat of him seeping into my skin. He’s my goddamn air.
“I’m sorry,” Eli mumbles against my hair. “What can I do?”
