“Why not?”
“You know why. It’s too complicated. Too many variables. Too much going on.”
“So we just keep sneaking around forever? Hiding in bathrooms and lying to everyone we care about?”
He doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.
The evening is ruined, the easy comfort we’d found watching movies and eating takeout poisoned by the reality of our situation.
We don’t even bother finishing the food or the movie. I mention heading home to practice for the play and Silver nods. He grabs his keys while I gather my things, both of us moving in silence.
The ride to my house feels endless even though it’s only ten minutes. Silver keeps his eyes set on the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. I stare out the window at the dark streets of Pulsboro, wondering how we got here.
How something that feels so right can be so complicated and wrong.
He pulls up to my house, the engine idling. Uncle Eddie’s bike is gone, probably at the club. Moses is who knows where.
The house sits dark and empty, just like always.
“Night,” Silver says tensely.
“Yeah. Goodnight.”
I get out without another word, no kiss goodbye or promise to call later. Just the cold distance that’s suddenly developed between us.
The next few days are torture. Silver and I barely text beyond quick messages about nothing. The one time we talk on the phone, he sounds distracted, giving one-word answers ’til I make an excuse to hang up.
After being together almost every night for the past couple weeks, the distance feels like withdrawal.
I catch myself constantly checking my phone, writing texts I don’t send, wondering if he’s thinking about me too or if he’s relieved to have space.
School passes in a blur of lectures I don’t hear and notes I don’t take. At rehearsals forMoonshine & Magnolia, I fumble lines I’ve known for weeks. The director keeps asking if I’m okay, and I force a smile and blame it on pre-show nerves.
But the truth is, I can barely concentrate on anything except the ache in my chest where Silver used to be.
The worst part is the nights. I’ve gotten so used to sleeping in Silver’s bed, feeling safe in his arms, that my own house feels foreign.
I can’t even step into my bedroom without seeing Kel’s blood on the floor no matter how many times it’s been scrubbed clean. When I try to lay in my bed, I’m jerking and twisting from the harrowing memory of how he’d thrown me down and groped my body.
So I sleep on the couch, telling myself I’m just watching TV and accidentally dozing off. When Uncle Eddie finds me there at three a.m., I lie and say I fell asleep watching a movie. WhenMoses asks why I’m on the couch again the next morning, I mumble something about my room being too cold.
Babysitting Jack has become awkward too. Rachel’s been giving me strange looks when she comes home, long stares that make me wonder if she knows.
Maybe Tabby told her about the lip gloss. Maybe she can smell her ex-husband on me somehow.
“Can you help Jack grab the grocery bags from the car?” Rachel asks one afternoon as I’m packing up my things—phone, journal, the book I brought but didn’t read because I spent the whole time thinking about Silver.
“Oh yeah, of course,” I say, grateful for the chance to exit the kitchen. I’ve dreaded spending any time alone with his ex-wife since the Tabby situation.
Jack groans dramatically. “Aw man! Mom, why can’t we pay somebody to do this?”
“Use those big strong muscles,” I tease him, ruffling his hair. “Just like your dad.”
My encouragement works, putting the battery in his back as his face brightens and he yells, “Challenge accepted!” before running off.
But I’ve only reminded myself of Silver at a time I should probably be trying to forget about him.
When will we see each other again? Will things ever go back to how they were before Tabby almost caught us?
