“That issothoughtful of you,” Lou says.
Talia rolls her eyes at me. “Thoughtfulandan excuse to come see her—because heaven forbid they be apart for one night,” she mutters to me.
I snigger but shake my head. “Let Lou have her happiness. Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should be bugged that she has a guy who is clearly head over heels for her.”
“Ugh. Whatever. Be all benevolent and crap.” But Talia is smiling as she watches Lou sneak in a kiss and then usher him back out the door.
We eat our pizza and watch the movie and finish the night giggling and dissecting Lou’s feelings for Chris (conclusion: She’s in love) and why things didn’t work out with a physical therapist from the gym for Talia (conclusion: He’s an egotistical maniac with a God complex). It’s a good night with my two best friends.
But I still feel suffocated by an all-encompassing loneliness as I climb under my sheets shortly after midnight when Talia finally goes and Lou retreats to her room to FaceTime Chris. I miss Hunter with a sharpness that steals my breath. These moments, late at night, when I can no longer keep myself mind-numbingly busy, my thoughts spin out of control. And I nearly give in to the temptation to text him.
But then I remind myself that I haveLyla’s heart—and I find the strength to resist. Even if I weren’t a bad bet to begin with, that is the trump card to bankrupt any hope for our happiness. However, reminding myself ofthatsends me into a different kind of spiral. Every time the guilt and grief threaten to splinter me apart and send me back into a vortex of anxiety, I replay him telling me to never regret being alive, repeating the words to myself over and over.
Without him there to say the words to me, they ring hollow.
I roll over onto my side, facing the wall, and will my mind to stop spinning. But it’s a futile effort, consigning me to another long, sleepless night.
I’m putting away the milk carton when Lou wanders into the kitchen the next morning, dressed in a tank top, leggings, and Nikes, and her hair is in a high ponytail.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” I ask.
“Chris wants to take me on a hike and then to breakfast.”
“Youare going hiking? Where? To Camelback Mountain or something?”
“Um, yes. Is that bad?”
I start laughing as I grab a spoon for my cream-of-rice-mixed-with-protein-powder-and-egg-whites breakfast. Bland, easy to digest, and nutritious, exactly how my doctor prefers my meals. “Good luck with that.”
She plops onto the chair across from me. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“Well, if you’re leaving soon, at least it won’t betoohot yet. Hopefully. That’ll help a little bit.”
“He’s supposed to be here in five minutes.”
I take a bite of my rice cereal. “Keep your cell phone on you so you can call search and rescue if you can’t make it.”
“Liv! You arenothelping!” But she pats the side pocket of her pants, making sure her phone is there. As if on cue, it starts to ring, and she pulls it out, her face bright and excited—until she looks at the screen. Then her brows furrow, and she glances up in confusion.
“What? Who is it?”
She looks back down. “It’s my aunt. Hunter’s mom.” She stands up abruptly. “I better take this.” She rushes into the laundry room and closes the door behind her, leaving me sitting with my spoon halfway to my mouth, quivering in the air, my heart in my throat.
All sorts of horrifying reasons why she is calling Lou flip through my mind, like one of those old toys where you look in the viewfinder and push down the handle to make the picture change.
Hunter is sick.
Hunter is injured.
Hunter is dying.
Hunter isdead.
I’m lightheaded with terror. My legs waver, threatening to give out; I have to grab the counter to stay standing.
The door opens, and Lou emerges.
I stare at her, my entire body shaking, waiting for the blow. Except she doesn’t look devastated. She looks nonplussed—and hesitant.
