“It feels wrong,” I whisper. “I don’t even know what to think. I love her. God, I love her. But now—now it’s ruined.”
She doesn’t answer.
Because maybe it is.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Eventually, I pull away. My hands are shaking when I reach for my phone.
I don’t know what I’m going to say. I don’t know if she’ll even read it. I don’t even know where she is.
But I send the text anyway.
Me: I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.
And I sit in my childhood home, surrounded by shattered glass and silence, waiting for a reply that may never come.
Chapter Twenty-Four
COVE
I don’t remember openingthe Uber app. I don’t remember requesting the ride. I don’t even remember stepping outside.
But suddenly I’m in the backseat of someone’s Prius, hugging my arms to my chest while tears fall soundlessly down my cheeks. My thighs are trembling. My chest hurts. Not the kind of hurt that can be fixed with a deep breath—but the kind that feels like something cracked inside my ribs and now every inhale slices me from the inside out.
The driver doesn’t speak. I think I scared him. I think I’m scaring myself.
The world outside blurs past in streaks of neon and holiday lights, but all I can see isher face. The way she looked at me—like I was the worst kind of mistake. Like she saw a ghost.
A ghost with her brother’s eyes.
Her voice echoes over and over, rising in volume until it’s screaming in my skull.
“That’s your cousin. That’s my niece.”
I gag, twisting to the side just in time to avoid ruining the poor guy’s car. I don’t puke, but I want to. My body wants to. Mymind is racing to catch up, to piece it all together, but it’s like trying to staple water to a wall.
How did this happen? How the actual fuck did this happen?
He kissed me. Helovedme. And I?—
No. Don’t say it. Don’t think it.
I clutch my phone in my hand so hard the case creaks. I can’t look at it. Not yet.
Not while everything is still so…raw.
By the time I stumble into my apartment and fumble with the keys, I’m drenched in sweat and shaking like I’m coming down from a fever. My fingers don’t feel like they belong to me. They don’t want to work. My phone finally buzzes, and I jump so hard I drop it.
Everest: I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.
God.
God.
God.
I don’t even know what I feel. But it starts to pour out the second the door shuts behind me. A sound escapes my throat, ugly and broken. Not a sob, not a scream, but something in between. I stagger toward the kitchen counter and brace myself, the granite cool against my palms.
The room tilts. My heart’s racing so fast I feel sick again.
