Page 140 of I’m The Worst

I can’t stop crying.

I can’t breathe around it.

Months of fear and pain and exhaustion release from me all at once while I cling to him like letting go might somehow make this disappear. Then my dad’s strong arms wrap around both of us.

“Oh, honey…” His voice breaks completely.

I make this awful, broken sound and grab onto him too, my entire body shaking while he pulls me against his chest and holds me so tightly I can barely breathe.

“We’re here,” he whispers shakily into my hair. “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”

I thought I was never going to hear his voice again.

“I thought…” My breath catches. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Gage’s arms tighten more around me. And standing there between them, crushed between familiar voices and shaking hands and people who love me⁠—

For the first time in months, I finally let myself believe I survived.

Goodbye, AJ.

Five Weeks Later

Late-afternoon sunlight spills through the massive windows overlooking the woods behind my house, casting gold across the hardwood floors and cream-colored bedroom furniture. My suitcases still sit half-unpacked near the wall.

I haven’t touched most of it.

The smell of antiseptic still clings faintly to my skin from another doctor’s appointment this morning. Another exam. Another conversation about healing and recovery and “adjusting after trauma.”

Like trauma is something you adjust to.

I sit cross-legged near the headboard, staring at my phone while my thumb hovers over the same unanswered text for what feels like the hundredth time.

Hey. It’s AJ.

Heard you were back in Chicago.

Delivered.

Read by nobody.

Sienna sprawls across the foot of my bed, rummaging through the pile of prescription bottles scattered beside me.

“Jesus Christ.” She whistles softly as she picks one up and gives it a wave. “They really hooked you up, huh?”

Her glossy black hair falls over her tanned shoulders as she pops open one of the orange bottles and shakes a couple of pills into her palm before swallowing them dry.

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess.”

My eyes drift back to my phone. It’s stupid how disappointed I feel every single time I check. I spent the last five weeks pretending I didn’t care while simultaneously harassing Gage almost daily for updates.

Is he back yet?

Did he check in?

Is he still overseas?

And today…