“You look like shit,” Jordan observes, before making himself comfortable on my couch. Tabby instantly finds his lap to curl up on.
“Flattering and lovely,” I mumble, and descend the remaining steps. “Thanks.”
I’m not sure what they’re doing here, but after the way I left during my lunch break because I couldn’t breathe, let alone think properly, I think they’re here to comfort me. Keep me company. All afternoon long, I’ve felt like the walls were closing in on me, suffocating me, and seeing their faces heals a part of me that’s been hurting for over twenty-four hours now.
Mom knows everything that went down with Diego because last night was supposed to be board-game night over at the house, but I didn’t show up. When Mom called and asked if I was okay, I’d all but choked out a weaknowhile wallowing in my bed with Tabby sleeping on my chest. I told her everything then, and I think Dad was listening too, because, this morning at Rock Snow, he merely pressed a kiss to my temple and whispered that I’d be alright.
I don’t suspect Jordan of knowing anything, but if he asks I’ll tell him too.
“Jordan,” Mom chastises, as she brings some plates and wineglasses to the coffee table. “Be nice to her. She’s heartbroken.”
“It’ll pass,” my brother says, caressing Tabby under her chin and dismissively waving his other hand. Her purrs are loud, a comforting sound that cuts through the chaos inside my head. “Diego’s ready to crawl and beg for forgiveness.”
I pause, sitting next to him. “He told you about us?”
“Didn’t have to. I saw the way the guy looks at you. To be frank, he’s looked at you like that since he came back.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re his whole world, Alara.” He says it with such conviction, as though nothing else would make sense. My breath catches, my vision on the cusp of getting hazy with sadness again.
Mom comes round my other side, wrapping her arm around my shoulders to pull me in. I soak in the warmth, the comfort, only now realizing that I’ve been in dire need of affection. In the kitchen, I hear Dad busying himself by uncorking a bottle, humming the way he always does when lost in thought.
He’s very fond of Diego – everyone sees it – but I wonder if he’s feeling murderous right now, because his daughter’s heart is shredded to infinitesimal pieces. Honestly, I inflicted this on myself, but facing all the consequences of my actions has been pretty damn painful so far.
“It’ll be okay,” Mom whispers, kissing the top of my head. “You guys will figure it out.”
Hope blooms somewhere in my chest. I know, deep in my core, that Diego and I are not over – we just need to get our shit together. What we had was too good, too beautiful, to let go. Maybe it happened fast, but it was real. It was alive. It was burning, and I know that no one else will ever make me feel the way he does.
I blow out a long breath. I just want the pain to dissipate. I just want him. And if he leaves now? I’ll find a way to keep our fire alive, because I refuse for our flames to be doused by our stupidity. Right now, we both need a bit more space, even if he admitted being ready to talk. He had several opportunities to call me or show up at my place to discuss it, but I think the onlyreason he hasn’t spoken up yet is because he’s still deciding what to do.
I trust him to make the right choice. And if his final decision doesn’t include me, then I’ll have to accept it.
But I know what I want, and it’s to try long distance if he’s willing to give it a shot.
“I didn’t order pizza,” I croak out. I just want to think of something else other the man who holds my heart in the palms of his hands.
“Diego did.” Dad finds a seat on the carpet, facing us from the other side of the small table. He places the bottle of red next to the pizza box and he opens it before turning it for me to see its contents.
Cheese pizza.
Extra cheese.
Heart-shaped. I give a watery laugh.
But what catches my attention, and makes a lump rise in my throat, is his handwriting on the upper part of the box.I’m sorry, Alara.
“He’s got a really big heart,” Mom says, handing me a plate with a slice of pizza. I’m not even hungry, but Diego’s gesture warms my entire being.
“I’m trying to be mad at him,” I mumble. “Stop trying to point out all his good qualities.”
“Heisa good man,” Dad prompts, which earns him a cold glance. He lifts his hands in semi-surrender.
Jordan has already inhaled an entire slice, and he’s reaching for seconds. “You know, Al, I haven’t seen Diego this alive in a while. It’s all because of you. You know that?”
I swallow thickly, keeping my eyes on my untouched slice of cheesy goodness. “So why didn’t he fight for me?”
“Because he’s trying to figure things out on his end. You know his whole life revolves around snowboarding, and all hisperfectly crafted plans for his future were ruined because of the stunt he pulled. He didn’t come here with the intention of falling in love, so how do you think he’s feeling now? And he wasn’t expecting that call from Wyatt so soon, so just try to put yourself in his shoes for a second.”
