Every horrible, humiliating, heartbreaking piece.
From the forehead kiss to the glass breaking to the vomit to the Uber to the phone call.
I cry so hard I give myself a nosebleed.
She listens. Doesn’t interrupt. Not once. And when I’m finally too empty to say another word, she whispers, “Oh, honey. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I didn’t know,” I rasp. “Neither of us did.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me. You loved him.”
Still do.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You breathe,” she says softly. “And when you’re ready, you talk to him. You both deserve that much.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me.
“Cove,” she calls my name. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But itfeelswrong,” I whisper.
“Only because they made it that way.”
I let the silence sit between us.
“Do you still want him?” she asks finally.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then figure it out. But don’t do it alone.”
My hand shakes as I hang up.
And when I finally fall asleep that night, I dream of Everest.
Of his arms around me.
Of the way he says my name.
Of howsafeit felt.
And when I wake up, the final thought is the same one I’ve had every hour since my world fell apart.
Missing him feels wrong. But not missing him?
Feels worse.
Chapter Twenty-Five
EVEREST
I’ve never hatedsilence until now.
It used to be peaceful. Something I could slip into like a hoodie on a rainy day.
Now it’s just loud. Like the whole world is whispering around me, but not to me.
