“Yeah, but in her eyes, you’ll always be six not sixteen. I don’t make the rules.”
“Sure.”
“You’re feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“But, like all good? No—nothing going on?”
“I haven’t been sick in years.”
“I know, but?—”
“I’m good.”
“Okay… Okay, good.”
“Is that all? I have homework.”
“Yeah, no, good to talk to you. Love you, kid. Put your mom back on.”
He handed the phone back to Breanne.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
I grimaced. “Nothing, just calling to say hi,” I repeated.
“You never do that. You sure you’re okay?”
“Long day, Bre, that’s all.”
She hummed like she didn’t believe me. “You have to take care of yourself. You’re not sleeping.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Well, do you want to come to dinner tonight?”
I shifted on the couch. “Dinner sounds amazing, but I don’t think I can tonight.”
“Okay, when then?”
“Soon,” I lied.
“Soon as in tomorrow? Or soon as in next week?”
“Not tomorrow. We can pick a date later, Bre.” I glanced at my watch again and gnawed at my lip. “Listen, I gotta go. I love you, all right?”
“I love you, too. Text me later, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
I hung up and put my head in my hand before picking it back up with a shake. I scrolled down to one last contact: Jenna. My finger hovered over her name before I tossed my phone to the side. “No point,” I muttered. Things with her were long over—I didn’t need to haul old feelings back to the surface. I dragged my hands down my face and checked my watch again. Five minutes.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I just…sat. I sat and stared forward, tears slowly leaking from my eyes. It was over. Nearly.
The clock counted down and hit eight p.m. On the dot, I sucked in a sharp breath and collapsed back into the couch. My heart stopped.
In the darkness, I heard a voice. “Christopher Mitchell. Right on time.”
