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Which makes no sense really, because Autumn stole the air right out of my lungs.
I look over at Justin, lost in some show he’s watching. The bags under his eyes are dark, and he’s clearly lost weight. I wish there was something I could do to help him.
I wish everything wasn’t so complicated.
I wish I could go back in time to the day the two of them met, and introduce her toanyother guy. One that isn’t related to me.
I want to know what he thinks when he hears her name. If there’s guilt or regret, maybe nothing at all.
Hopefully someday I’ll have the courage to ask.
14
Autumn
Eight Years Ago
I’m not feeling good.
I’m on my period.
Even after four years of dealing with it, I always forget to take painkillers before the cramps get this bad. I was supposed to work tonight, but that lack of foresight meant I couldn’t handle standing at the cash register for hours.
Does that mean I should have stayed home, and not gone to my boyfriend's house? Probably, but I know his mom has a heating pad around here somewhere.
I walk into the house without knocking, something Amelia has repeatedly told me to do. It doesn’t look like anyone is home other than him, so I hope he can help me find the things I need to feel better. I’m not quite comfortable enough to go rooting around the place on my own.
I hear his voice through the door before I open it and I pause. I can’t help my nosey instincts, and I press my ear to it, amplifying the words inside.
“I wish you were here, babe…” There’s a pause. “Maybe tomorrow, when everyone is at work.”
My brows furrow. Is he leaving me a voicemail?
I try to listen further, but he’s speaking quietly. Maybe opening the door would be a good idea, seeing the look of surprise on his face when he realizes he doesn’t have to wait until tomorrow.
I start to reach for the knob and then freeze with a thought that makes my head spin.
He knows I have to work tomorrow night.
“Really?” he asks someone that isn’t me.
I gasp, realization hitting me like a brick.
“My mom would love you, it’s not that.”
What the hell?
I’m frozen in place, listening to more of his unintelligible words. My thoughts race, trying to put together a puzzle without any pieces.
“No, you’re so beautiful,” he tells them. “I really can’t wait to see you.”
Now the bricks are piling up on my chest. I don’t want to believe what I’m hearing.
Mentally cutting whatever rope was holding me back, I barge into the room.
He looks like he got caught, the way he throws his phone out of his hand so quickly. It hits the edge of his bed frame with a crack and drops to the floor. His eyes are wide as his head jerks in my direction.
I hate the sight. Instead of acknowledging him, I glance at the phone. There’s a call still going. The name Isabelle sits on the screen. I try to recall if there’s a face in my memory bank to match, but I come up blank.
