Michael is nodding. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. How is Jacob doing?” He tries to sound casual, but I catch the suspicion in his voice.
I avoid his gaze. “I didn’t talk to him very long. I...” I’m desperate for another subject. My barrier is so weak it’s almost transparent. Talking about Jacob is only going to make it worse. I reach for Michael’s phone. “Let me see the apartment again. How big did you say it was? I was thinking I could do some kind of study abroad, so I can still graduate on time. I could check with the university.”
He smiles with relief. “That would be awesome. I'll see if my dad can pull some strings.”
I catch Angelica standing in the doorway. She’s shaking her head at me.
fifty-one
Not Okay
“Ithought you might be interested in this,” my roommate Angelica sets a flier on my desk while I’m trying to study.
I barely glance at it. Something about free counseling at the student center. I work to keep my voice steady. “Why would you think that?”
She sits on her bed and watches me for a minute, like she’s trying to think of the right words. “I think you need someone to talk to.”
“Michael calls every night, and I can’t get you to shut up or stay out of my business.”
Angelica bites her lip but doesn’t respond to my insult. “I mean a professional.”
I stare at her. “I’m fine.” I gesture to the on the desk in front of me. “But if I don’t pass this test, I won’t be, so if you don’t mind.” I hold the flier out for her to take.
“Your friend Taryn called yesterday,” Angelica says it casually, like she didn’t completely trespass in my life.
“You answered my phone?”
“No. It was the apartment phone. She said you weren’t answering your cell, so she got the number from your mom. She's worried about you.”
“I haven’t talked to Taryn in ages.” Guilt slips out with that sentence. Truthfully, I haven’t talked to any of them—Taryn, Mom, Dad, Tyler. I didn’t even call Jasmine when her baby was born. I just sent her a 'congratulations' text.
“She told me about Matthew and about Gage.” Her voice is thick with the sympathy I’ve been running from. She stays silent, as if she’s waiting for me to tell her the whole story.
“I really need to study. I don’t have time to rehash the past so you can analyze it and tell me how crazy I am.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Angelica’s voice is quiet. She takes a long breath. “Taryn also told me about your old boyfriend, the one from high school, and the trial and everything. That’s a lot of trauma to take on by yourself. It’s okay to ask for help.”
“Damnit,” I slam the book shut. “Why can’t you and everyone else just leave me alone? My grades are good. I keep a hellish schedule. I run. I’m never late for my clinicals. I have a smoking-hot boyfriend who's rich and wants to whisk me away to a foreign country to spend time together before he marries me and I’m set for life. I am fine. I just want to finish my homework and go to bed.”
Angelica stands as if she’s not sure whether to stay or go. It’s the first time I've yelled at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pushing you into things you don’t want to do, things you aren’t ready to face yet. I’m just saying you’ve been through a lot and maybe you should—”
“Maybe you should leave me alone. Maybe you should get the hell out of my room and stay the hell out of my life.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “It’s my room too. But I’ll give you your space.” She walks to the door and leaves, shutting it behind her.
I’m fuming. Furious with all of them. How dare Taryn tell Angelica anything about me, or about Matthew or especially about Brad? How dare Angelica decide that I’m a project to be fixed? How dare any of them try to run my life?
My thoughts go deeper. How dare Jacob kiss me and open the floodgates to something I'm not ready to face? How dare Michael use my weakest moment to manipulate me into being with him? How dare Matthew join the Army and get himself killed?
I’m so worked up I throw my book across the room. I have a sudden urge to break something. I pick up my phone, ready to throw it across the room too. It buzzes with a text.
I’ve been thinking of you.
My fury melts into terror as I sink onto the bed. I can’t get away from him, from my grief and guilt, from any of it. The mental countdown I’ve kept in my head is getting closer and closer to the day I’ve been dreading. Brad will be out of jail in less than a year. Every message from him is a reminder that he hasn't forgotten me or what I did to him.
He hasn’t forgotten Jacob.
That thought hits harder than anything else.
