I know I should be there for my family, but I’m struggling to put on a brave face with everyone, as it is. My parents will see right through me, and I know they’ll figure out that I’m not dealing with this very well. I don’t want to burden them more than I know they already are.
“Kat.” Sam pauses, causing me to worry that he’s beginning to realize how deep my depression has gotten. “Kat, please go. I want to see you; your parents want you there. You don’t have to be anything to anyone. You can stay in your PJs with your hair in a messy bun. Just go.”
“I’ll try.” That's all I can manage right now. I quickly change the subject and then hang up with Sam as quickly as I can. I know he cares, but I can’t talk about this any longer. Not right now.
It’s Friday night, so I have a couple of days to think this over before he’s inCharleston.
The doorbell rings, startling me awake. The clock on my nightstand reads 9:00 p.m. I laid down around 6:00 p.m. but didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m still in my jeans.
Sam called a couple of times since I spoke to him on Friday, and I couldn’t bring myself to answer his calls. I texted him short responses so that he didn’t think I was totally ignoring him again. I know he’s going to be upset that I didn’t go to Charleston.
Liv and I had planned to drive over together, but when it was time to leave yesterday, I just couldn’t bring myself to go.
I walk over to the front door and peek out the peephole to see who's there. Sighing, I open the door. “Sam. What are you doing here?” My tone is flat, laced with the exhaustion I’m feeling.
“You said you would be in Charleston for Thanksgiving. I got there this afternoon only to find out you didn’t get in the car with Liv.” I flinch at his harsh tone.
Without inviting him in, I turn and walk towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. I hear the door click closed followed by his footsteps trailing behind me.
“I don’t want to be around everyone right now.”
“Kat.” His voice is suddenly gentle, which causes me to stop and look at him. God, why does he always look so good? “I know it’s been hard, but—”
“You don’t get it, Sam,” I cut him off. “It’s been a month. AN ENTIRE MONTH!” I realize I’m shouting when his face bleaches.
I blow out a breath before continuing.
“It’s like no one cares. Everyone is just moving on, and… and I feel so lost. Ethan and I talked all the time. Do you know how hard it’s been to want to tell him something and dial his number only to realize he’s gone? Or to text him some stupid meme and realize it won’t get to him? Every time I think about that last phone call, it feels like I can’t breathe.”
Did I say I love you?
“Yes. Yes, I do know what that’s like.” He looks like I’ve slapped him. His shoulders are high and his expression is tight. “Ethan and I talked all the time, too. Fuck, Kat. He was my best friend. I lost him, too.”
I just stare at him—too angry to talk to him.
“Your parents lost him. And right now, they need you. We aren’t all just moving on. We’re doing the best we can to live while also dealing with the fact that Ethan is gone.” He looks around the small kitchen, running his hand through his hair.
Sam fixes his attention on me again. He winces slightly at whatever he sees in my expression and sighs, exasperated.
What the fuck does he have to be exasperated about?I’m about to ask him—gearing up for a fight when he continues.
“We have a lot to talk about, Kat.” I ball my hands into fists by my side, feeling the tension in my body. “Right now, you look like you need to sleep. I’ll be here tomorrow morning, and we can talk while I drive us to Charleston.”
My stomach drops, and I start to panic at the thought of him leaving. “Sam.” I rush to stop him. “Where are you going?”
“One of the hotels in town that has a room available. Have any suggestions?” It sounds more like a challenge than a question.
I can’t let him leave. “Stay with me. I mean here. Stay here. At my place.”
Why do I feel like I just reverted to that 14-year-old girl with a crush on her brother's best friend?
I sigh, trying to clear my head. “I don’t know how Liv would feel about me offering up her room. But you can sleep on the couch?”
He considers it, and for a moment, I think he’s going to decline. “Thanks. If you tell me where I can find a pillow and a blanket, I’ll take the couch.” His expression loosens, and I see his body physically relax. “I’ll get us breakfast in the morning and then drive us to your parents’ house.”
For some reason, his words cause the anger to flare up. “You don’t need to coddle me, you know?” It comes out as little more than a grumble.
“Coddle you? You’re kidding, right?” He snorts with disgust.
