I know Jackson needs rest time, but this feels more pointed than that. Why isn’t he replying? Did I do something to upset him?
I scrub the dishes until my fingers are raw. Then I wipe down the stovetop and counters. Our kitchen has never been so clean.
Izzy, Shay, and Alex are scattered around the house, exhausted fromthe sheer amount of food consumed, so I go to my room and flop into bed. My phone lights up, so I yank it from the charger plugged into the wall.
Oh, thank god.
JACKSON:
Hey Ellie
He’s still typing another message, so I wait. It’s an excruciating few minutes.
JACKSON:
Sorry, I meant to respond earlier.
ELLIE:
Finally! How’s it going, stranger?
JACKSON:
Um, not great, actually.
ELLIE:
What’s wrong???
My heart races as he types.
JACKSON:
Ellie, I’m a mess.
I’m tired and depressed and worried and
The typing goes on even longer now. This feels familiar in the worst possible way.
ELLIE:
Jackson, I know you’re going through a lot. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here for you.
JACKSON:
I don’t know how to do any of this.
I don’t know how to be in a relationship right now.
I bite my lip and hold back tears. He wouldn’t do this over text, would he?
ELLIE:
Does that mean
I stumble over what to write.
ELLIE:
