Page 123 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Be available tomorrow,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “Your girl might need some dinner at her place to make her feel better.” Every word I speak feels like ash on my tongue, turning bitter and chalky.

I fucking hate myself.

“Sure,” he mumbles, getting out of the car with crinkled brows. He doesn't look back at me when he goes inside, and I don't look at him.

This is a means to an end. A way to live our dream, and that's it.

A plan formulates in my mind as I drive back to Callum's, and we regroup, coming up with a solid idea on how to get us the fuck out of here and keep River here. Now all I have to do is break my best friends’ hearts.

Numbness fillsevery molecule in my body. The past day's events play like a movie that happened to someone else. Not me. Never me. There's no way I went from the best fucking vacation to this dismal existence bathed in loneliness.

Emptiness surrounds me—a nothingness sinking deep into my bones. The world around me keeps moving and has been for the past two days. Leaving me here, in the home I once shared with my mother. She’s the same woman who suffered while I was away, having the time of my life and insisting to the neighbor that she was okay—insisting to her nurse that she didn't need her on those days and let her have a few days off. Why did my mom do this? Why would she leave me when I needed her in my life? Things were going to look up for us in the future. So, why did she leave me now?

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare out into the dark abyss. Shadows dance along the sliding glass door, but no one enters through hellbent on getting me out of bed. Their voices play in the back of my mind like ghosts whispering in my ear, trying topry me out of bed. But I’m a frozen mass, unable to motivate myself. It's been like this for days. Me, myself, and I—planning a funeral. Something I never thought I’d have to do. I mean, who the fuck does that? Who plans a funeral for their mother at nineteen? Fuck. Why? Why did this happen?

Why did she leave me?

Of course, my neighbors, Odette, Leon, and Korrine, stopped by and ensured I was okay by feeding me dinner and keeping me company—until I shooed them away. But the boys? It's like the moment I told them to leave me alone in the ER, they listened. Half of me is pissed off and conflicted because I wanted the solitude to process the immeasurable amount of grief pressing down on me. The other half wants them by my side, hugging me and telling me everything will be okay. I’ll be okay, right? Everything will work out, right? But fuck. Why aren’t they here? Where the fuck have they been while I’ve been drowning in grief and unable to find a life raft to pull me ashore? Don’t they understand I didn’treallywant them to leave me alone? They were supposed to fight me tooth and nail, hovering above me until I gave in. But they… They left me when I needed them, and I only have myself to blame.

My body desperately craves Callum in my bed, snuggling with me until I fall asleep with peaceful dreams. Or Rad taking me on his dirt bike through the light snow dusting the ground, erasing the depression darkening my mind. I want Kieran to hold me and tell me I'll be okay with his possessive nature and nurturing me until I’m well again. And Asher, I'd let him fuck me out of my grief, bringing me to so many damn orgasms I forget why my world is unraveling.

I sigh, massaging my temples. I never thought loneliness would settle so deep inside me, overshadowing my damn life. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water.No matter what happens in my life, I must press forward and continue with my goals. And the first step is getting out of bed.

Me

Hey, uh… you guys want to hang out?

I tap my nails on the counter, watching the screen with a sharp eye. I scroll, looking at the two other unanswered messages I'd sent last night, asking if they'd want to come to see me and maybe watch a damn movie. Yet, I was ghosted.

A deep ache forms in my gut, turning it into knots as I over-analyze their shifty ways. Maybe they're playing a gig somewhere, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces, which I'm barely doing. One false move and my reality will shatter, and I’ll be no more than a pile of broken edges on the floor.

Tomorrow my mother's funeral will kick off at noon at the Central Funeral Home. A part of me is ready to continue with this life and move on as quickly as possible. I’ll miss the hell out of my mom, but everything happened so fast. It hasn’t set in yet that she’s truly gone. It’s only been two days, but it feels like she’s at the grocery store and will march through the front door with a grin at any time. Nothing feels real right now.

When I walk past her recliner, my stomach churns at the misery she must have felt lying there and slowly dying all by herself. I stop beside it, running a finger over the worn material, reveling in the feel of the rough fabric against my fingertips. Why didn’t she call for help? Why didn’t she ask someone to take her to the hospital before it was too late? Or had she just given up on life?

So many questions run through my mind with little indication of the answers. The only person who could give me clues has been shoved into a large box destined for the ground tomorrow.

My heart jumps through my chest when a knock sounds at the front door, alerting me to unexpected company. For the most part, everyone has respected the space I requested—almost too much. Ugh. My head swims in confusion. I want people here, but I don’t want people here. I want to wallow in my own misery, yet I want people here to guide me through it. I’m so damn conflicted with what I want; it makes my fingers curl into fists, ready to punch my frustrations away.

“Van?” I blanch when I open my front door, greeted by a sheepish-looking Van holding out a food container.

“I-I heard about your mom, Rivey,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’ve always lived alone with her, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay. Also, I wanted to drop off some food.” Licking his lips, he hands it over, and the most delicious smell wafts from the lid, making my stomach grumble loud enough for him to pop a smile. “You always did have a hard time taking care of yourself,” he rumbles, pushing past me and waltzing into my apartment like he’s been here before.

I frown at his chastising words, momentarily stunned at his actions. How dare he march into my home and scold me on how I take care of myself. I mean, sure. I haven’t technically eaten all day. Eating when you’re stuck at home with nowhere to go and numbing pain gnawing at your insides makes it challenging to crave food. It’s the last thing on your mind.

“Um, thanks for the food,” I say, shutting the front door and locking it before facing him. “I appreciate the concern. But, uh—what’re you doing here? You’ve never come here before.” Placing the food on the kitchen counter, I peel open the lid. My mouth waters at the sight of the freshly baked meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a side of corn, and a small biscuit with melted butter rests on top of it all, and my brows furrow. “Did you…?”

Van grins with pride, leaning against the counter next to me, and nods. “Yeah. I made it just for you, Rivey. I thought you would need comfort food.” He shrugs, looking smugly satisfied with himself, and my hackles rise.

I’ve pushed this asshole away for months now, and suddenly, he’s standing in my kitchen like I’m his number one concern. He’s the one who dumped me and pushed me away. Usually, he’s watching from the shadows, stalking my every move. Now, he’s in the home he swore he wouldn’t be caught dead in. This is the same douchecanoe who used to fuck me in his car and then drop me off a block from home because he was too scared to be here.

“Thanks,” I say with apprehension, grabbing a fork and tentatively taking a bite of the delicious, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy. I’m so fucked if this is laced with poison, and Van’s sole purpose is to kidnap me because it’s so damn good, it melts on my tongue—poison be damned, I grab more. “This is delicious. Exactly what I needed,” I mumble through my bite, shoveling more food into my mouth with a hum of satisfaction. Maybe this is one more step in the right direction to getting myself out of this dark, miserable state I’ve put myself in for the last two days.

Van’s eyes track around the apartment, taking every dismal detail in with the scrunch of his judgmental nose. “So, this is where you live?” he asks, coming to stand beside me, knocking his shoulder into mine. “It’s not too scary here,” he says with another unsettling, cocky grin.

“Um, thanks,” I say, pushing the half-eaten food away. “Is this all you came by for?” I ask, gesturing to the food as I put the lid back on and hand it back to him. “I mean, I appreciate it. But I’m kind of busy...” Busy getting the fuck away from this intruding asshole. Where’s Odette when I need her to barge in with a bat and whack this chucklehead all the way back to his car and send him back to Lakeview?

My hairs stand on end when he pushes the Tupperware back into my hands, shaking his head. “Just keep it. You can wash it and give it back to me.” Give it back to him? That means he wants me to see him again or bring it by.