Page 125 of The Publicity Stunt

I don’t know what to do other than hold her and hope it fixes her. But she doesn’t let me hold her.

I take a step forward and she takes an even bigger one back.

“I don’t need you,” she says, holding out a hand like I’m the damn plague.

“Don’t say that.”

“I don’t need you,” she repeats.

“April, this is not a damn joke anymore. You might not need me, but you need to take your meds on time. Despite what you think, taking care of you twenty-four-seven is not a fucking fun activity for me either.”

It’s like a fucking dance we’ve been practicing for so long.

She acts like she doesn’t need me.

I act like I don’t need her.

Words turn into harsh sentiments and there’s nothing either of us can do to fucking stop them.

“Then do us both a favor and stop.” April’s crying and I’m trying not to. “I am sick of it. I am sick of you looking at me like I’m something that needs to be fixed.”

“April …”

The buzzer rings beside the door, cutting me off. I head over to the speaker box and press the button. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me.” Shara.

April inhales sharply, shifting on her feet.

I don’t know why Shara’s here, but I’m not about to send her away. “Come on up.”

April quickly buttons up her coat and walks past me, grabbing the house keys from the basket.

“April, wait.” I try holding her hand but she brushes me off. A few seconds later, there’s a soft knock at the door. April’s face shrinks further. I open the door and Shara walks in.

“Hey,” she tells me, giving me a half hug. “I’m sorry to drop in unannounced.” She’s actively avoiding April’s gaze. “I just … I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.” I force a smile her way. If our interaction bothers April in the slightest, she doesn’t let it show. Instead she walks around us, aiming for the door.

“April, stop.” I grab her arm. This time she doesn’t fight me. Her eyes flick to Shara for a brief second and back to me. She mouths a silentplease.

“Is something wrong?” Shara whispers loudly as if we aren’t all standing at arm’s length from each other. “Should I leave?”

April shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, don’t leave. I’ll go.” My grip around her arm tightens in desperation. “What do you want from me?” She turns around.

Shara’s hand goes to my shoulder. “I’ll come by another time.”

April’s eyes move to the spot where Shara’s palm meets my shoulder and when she looks back at me, everything hurts more than it should.

“No,” April says. “Stay. I should be the one leaving.”

I say the first thing I can think of. “No, you’re not.” She’s clearly upset, angry, maybe even confused. “You’re not going anywhere like this. You need to start talking to me, April.”

“Let go of my hand, Parker,” she emphasizes.

I should take April inside. I should talk to her. Hold her. Comfort her. I should tell Shara to go home and that she’s right, this isn’t a good time. I need to be here for April right now.

But maybe that’s the thing about grief and losing someone. You hardly ever react the way you’re supposed to. “Stop being so fucking selfish right now. You’re not the only one who’s going through it. We all are. I still have you, and you still have me.” I point to Shara. “She doesn’t. The only person whose tantrums are excusable are hers. And even she has a better grip on fucking reality than you do right now. Stop making this all about you.”