I kick the wall, an explosion of anger rocketing through me. Grace growls and hunches down, confused. It reminds me of how good and gentle Drew was with her, and that’s enough to finally break through. I choke on my breath, all the loss and loneliness and hurt rising, and for the first time in years, I let myself cry.
Ugly tears roll down my face, as ugly as the truth.
Drew was right to tell me to leave.
* * *
Drew
I lie on the carpet in the middle of the living room, a big cardboard box by my side and my heart aching. Ever since I got back from the stationary shop, I’ve been trying to rally my energy and start to pack up the house, but I only get so far before I want to crawl into bed and give up again.
I feel trapped here, trapped in the past six years of my life. Except it’s even worse this time because I don’t have my mom to share the house. I just have complicated memories and anger toward her that makes me feel guilty.
And I don’t have Caesar. I was alone before, sure, but I didn’t know how lonely I was in the same way I do now.
I rest my hand on the tattoo, seeking even a little comfort, trying to remember the promise he made to add more ink. I got so used to Caesar being there with his grumpy grunts and hard-earned smile. Maybe I didn’t tell him enough how much I appreciated his silent care and attention or the ways he was opening up to me.
I shouldn’t have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have told him to leave. But I fell apart. I cursed at him and cried and admitted things to him that I hadn’t even admitted to myself. Caesar saw me at my lowest, and it was just easier to tell him to go than it was to ask him to stay.
At least now the thought of getting back to him pushes me through. I’m tempted to sink into despair and wallow in my grief, but I can’t let that happen. I need to get back to Caesar as soon as possible. If there is a different life waiting for me, I can’t waste any more time getting there.
My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I’m relieved to see it’s Piper.
“How’s Indiana?” she greets me.
“It’s fine. I’m trying to pack.” I sit up and glance into the box. I’ve only managed to add a couple of framed photos and a lamp from the living room, most of the stuff just honestly not being my style. “It’s hard.”
“Caesar still there helping you?”
“No. He went back yesterday.”
Silence stretches out. I’m sure Piper can hear the hurt in my voice, same as I can.
“Is everything okay?” she finally asks.
“Yes. No. I guess we kind of got in a fight. I’m not sure.”
“You’d know if it was a fight.”
“How?”
“Did either of you yell? Or tell the other one to fuck off? Those are pretty clear signs.”
I swallow, embarrassed to remember my emotional meltdown. “I might have said something to that effect.”
“You told him to fuck off?” Piper yelps, surprised. “I’m kind of impressed, Drew.”
I stand up, suddenly nervous. “It’s not like that. We were just talking about hard stuff, my mom and how she didn’t tell me the truth about Mack.”
“You mean how she lied to you?”
“Something like that,” I mutter. I start pacing the house, anxious. “But it wasn’t a fight. And I’m not really mad at him. Caesar had to go back to Chicago anyway, and honestly, it’s for the best. I’m acting sad and weird and emotional, and he doesn’t need to see that.” I stop in the kitchen, staring at the open cupboards. “Right?”
“Was he being rude about it?”
“About what?”
“You being sad.”
