Hours later, I wake with Angus’s head on the pillow next to me. He yawns noisily and blasts me with a waft of doggie breath. I roll over, wait for the spins to settle down. The clock says three in the morning. The empty wine bottle is sitting on my night table.
I pick up my phone and squint at the screen. I have a vague memory of texting someone, but that can’t be right. I don’t have cell service. Then I see what I wrote Jared.
Okay. Maybe I am scared. Because I love you too much. You might leave me like my dad, and then I would die twice. I thought this would be easier. But it’s not. I miss you.
Oh, shit. Thank God that didn’t go through. I stare at the blue bubble. All I would have to do is drive where we have service and it would fly off my phone and land on his. But I don’t want that. Those were just my drunk words. They don’t mean anything. I have plans. I’m going to be single and focus on finishing school, then move to the city and meet new people.
My fingers hover over my phone, then I open up my photos. Jared and me, selfies on the beach, in his bed, making crazy faces, kissing. I stare at his face, his dark eyes. I think about how he always seemed to know when I was upset, and how he’d find new places to take me, how he’d drag me outside for walks when I didn’t feel like doing anything.
He was right. He’d just been trying to help me. It’s not his fault I stopped drawing. He used to even tell me to bring my sketchpad with me. I stopped hanging out with Delaney because we just didn’t have as much to talk about anymore and having sex with Jared was more fun. That wasn’t his fault. I made all those choices. I look at Angus. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”
He wiggles closer, licks and snuffles at my face until I have to push him away. At least he still loves me. I sneak out to the living room, pull open the fridge, and search for the bottles of water Mom brought. I drop one as I take it out and it rolls across the floor. Angus pounces after it nosily and I shush him. Too late, I hear footsteps behind me, then Marcus’s voice.
“Thought I heard you coming down the stairs. You okay?”
“Yeah, just can’t sleep.” I open the water and guzzle half of it without stopping to breathe. I feel as though I’ve just woken up with a mouthful of sand.
“Hungover, huh?” He’s leaning on the counter, wearing a white robe like he’s at the spa. His hair is all messed up. I’m not going to think about how it might have gotten like that.
“I’m just not used to wine.” As if I’m used to so many other things.
“You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me. We can keep it between us.”
He has that understanding therapist expression on his face again. The one that makes him look like he wants to sit down with a pad of paper and talk about all my deepest fears. I’m surprised he’d keep anything from my mom. Maybe he’s just saying that so I’ll trust him.
“I’m okay.”
“You sure? Seeing your mom move on in a new relationship must be hard. Especially when your father just died. It would be natural for you to feel some anger.”
Jesus. I thought shrinks were supposed to be sensitive. I feel the room spin a little again. I take a breath. It’s just the wine. I fiddle with the lid on my bottle. “It’s not that. It’s Jared.”
He cocks his head. “I wondered why he canceled last-minute.”
“I broke up with him, but I think I made a mistake.”
“Is it too late to fix?”
“I don’t know. He’s on the island too, but I’m not sure if he wants to see me.”
“Well, maybe the time apart will be a good thing. We’re only here for the week. You can talk when we get back to town. Like they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Yeah, maybe. What’s a week, right?”
“Exactly.” He looks relieved, like he thinks he’s just scored some big parenting win and now everything is cool and he can tell Mom how we bonded over my broken heart in the kitchen.
We say our good-nights and I go back to bed with Angus and my bottle of water. Good thing Marcus isn’t a shrink anymore, because he’s really not all that smart about teenagers.
There’s no way I’m waiting for a week.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LINDSEY