Page 60 of This Might Hurt

“Tell her you’ll come to her graduation.”

I blink at him. The silence stretches out for ages, cut by the whir of a bicycle whizzing past on the path. “What?”

He waits for me to think it through, his thumb rubbing soothingly along my arm.

“I can’t get a plane ticket in three days.”

“Private jet, remember?”

“Isn’t your grandfather’s funeral that day?”

He shakes his head firmly. “You don’t have to attend that. Go be with your sister.”

Now that I ran through all my excuses, I don’t have any left besides the one I’m actually afraid of, more than anything. “My parents…I can’t.”

He grabs the back of my neck firmly and leans in until our noses are touching. “I will personally hunt them down and run them over with a fucking bus if it means you’ll go.” He’s absolutely not kidding.

“Um…” I’m so overwhelmed and hopped up on adrenaline I can’t think.

“Come on.” He shakes me gently.

I tap the un-mute button with trembling fingers. “You there, Lena?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…would you still want me to come on Saturday?”

We listen to her stunned silence. “Really?” she breathes. “Please don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” I croak, sounding ridiculously unsure. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad though.”

“Oh my god. I saved one of my invitations for you. I told Mom it was for Diane, but Diane said that if you came, she wouldn’t mind staying home.” She sniffs violently. “You can’t make me cry. Mom has to help me clean up, and she’ll know.”

“Don’t cry, then.” I push my forehead into Andrew’s shoulder and close my eyes. “Not until Saturday.”

I don’t really hear the rest of the conversation.

I just breathe in the spring scent of Andrew’s neck, his hand rubbing my back while Lena spouts off a bunch of times and places I’m not going to remember.

I tell her to text them to me instead, along with the hospital payment site.

Then she’s gone. The damp heat slides back in, the weird hush of the river, the sun getting more orange as it sinks over the trees.

Andrew searches my face when I lift my head. “Alright?” he asks quietly, smoothing my hair back. I don’t know where the black hole I met a few weeks ago has gone, or who this man is, or how we can hold so much love between us when we’re both so fucked.

“I need to go…I don’t know.” I turn in a circle, lost, wishing for the lonely Wyoming highways that stink of gasoline and dust. “I need to make a lot of money in the next hour.” Pulling out my phone, I tap the payment link.

“God.” Thirteen thousand dollars. “I have a third of this in a backpack hidden in Ramona’s wall, but how am I supposed to get it? Shit.”

Andrew tightens his grip, pulling me to a stop when I try to take off back the way we came. “Let me pay it. Come on.”

“No, it has to be me. This is my job.”

He inhales deeply, closes his eyes, and lets it out again, simmering with a deep frustration I don’t totally understand.

“I’m the reason you haven’t been out there making money, and I owe you for helping me.

Let me give you this and the trip to graduation, alright?

Then you can call us even if that’s what you need to do. ”

I’m acting like I have a choice, but not even I’m so dense as to think I can make thirteen thousand bucks before the sun goes down.

“Fine, thank you.” I hand him the phone with the payment link, then shove my hands in my pockets and stare out over the peaceful view, trying to find the part of me that’s happy to go see my sister.

I know it’s there, blinding and all-consuming. But right now, I just feel numb.

Andrew puts his wallet back in his pocket and hands me my phone. “It’s taken care of. There was an outstanding balance from something last month, so I paid that too.”

“Oh, great.”

Sighing, he picks up the lunch bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Do you want to go back? We can sneak into my room without anyone seeing.”

“I never wanted any of this to happen.”

He turns around and cocks his head at me. “Any of what?”

I shrug nonsensically. My chest feels tight and my head is swimming.

“I barely did half a line of coke that night, and it wasn’t even my idea.

What the fuck is so wrong with me that I deserved to ruin my life and my family’s for trying half a line of coke?

And why can’t I fix it? All I do is try and try, but it never fucking stops.

” I tip my head back, my breath catching.

“Please don’t let me have a panic attack right now. ”

“I don’t…” I hear him set the bag down, then feel his body heat. “Carla showed me this grounding exercise when I was a kid. It’s like, um, first you find something you can see.”

I angle my head toward him irritably. “Your ugly face.”

“Sure. Then something you can touch.”

“Also your ugly face.” I smush my palm against his nose and he bats it away.

“Then I think it was something you can hear and something you can smell.”

“Uh...” I finally manage to get a full breath of air. “Your annoying voice telling me what to do, and that stupid woody shampoo your family is obsessed with.”

He huffs a subdued laugh. “It’s one of the brands we own. Then the last one is something you can taste.”

I swivel toward him and narrow my eyes. “You set me up for that.”

“No.” He laughs and pushes me away when I try to jab him in the ribs. “It’s just the exercise, I swear.”

“Then hold fucking still.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.

This is the first one we’ve shared that’s sad instead of sexy, but it feels good and easy because both of us are as familiar with sadness as we are with our own names.

“I’m sorry,” I say when we break apart, letting him lead me back to the path.

“I’m so tired of living like this, and I’m starting to wonder how long I’ll last before I just can’t anymore. ”

He seems quieter than usual, like he’s not totally listening. “We’re going to figure it out. I won’t let things go back to the way they were.”

I want to ask how he’s so sure of that when he barely remembered to leave a tiny sliver of space for me in his grand future plans. But he’s been so fucking nice to me today, and I’d rather pretend for a few hours that his stubborn fake it ‘til you make it method is going to get us somewhere good.

ANDREW

The light is on in Archie’s office when we get back to the house.

I want to check the news, but I tell myself to wait until morning so Daxton’s family has a chance to respond.

Part of me is so afraid my uncle will come into my room and drag me out that I lock us in an empty guest bedroom down the hall and stuff towels against the crack under the door so no one notices the light.

I charter Jude’s flight to Wyoming and book him a rental car while he smokes on the window seat. If I watch, I can see the same thoughts crossing and re-crossing his face over and over, like they’re trapped on a hamster wheel in his brain.

When I’m finished, I come over and lie down with my head in his lap. He keeps passing me his cigarette; I think it turns him on for some reason to watch me struggle to smoke it. We stay up a lot later than we should without really doing or saying anything at all.

Despite the long night, I wake up at seven without an alarm and sit up, listening to the silent house.

Jude’s peacefully breathing body takes up well over half the bed, which he claimed by shoving me off the edge three times.

I get up without jostling him and pull on some black jeans and a linen shirt, then stick my head into the deserted hallway.

I’m genuinely at a loss. I have to go downstairs eventually, but I don’t know what I’ll find.

Listening carefully for any voices, I sit at the top of the main staircase and open the financial news on my phone.

Meridian Industries stock value drops after Innes Group merger cancellation.

I run my finger over the words, stunned, and wonder if my grandfather would agree that I’ve finally drawn blood.

The house stays so stubbornly quiet I start to wonder if everyone left.

Before I can second guess myself, I get up and walk down the stairs.

Jumping at every creak of the floor and flicker of light from outside, I make my way to the morning room.

Someone laid breakfast out on the table—muffins, eggs, and bacon that have gone cold even under their silver cloches.

I’m about to sneak into the kitchen and ask for coffee when I realize my mother is sitting by the window, watching me. “Shit.” I press my hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

She sips some kind of green smoothie in a tall glass and examines me without answering. Her oversized beige cowl neck and jeans make her look pale and sickly.

Not sure what else to do, I pick up one of the blueberry muffins our chef always makes vegan for me and cross the room to sit in the chair nearest to her. She can never resist talking, so I just wait.

“I don’t know what to feel,” she says finally, making a face at the rest of her smoothie and putting it on the windowsill. “I should be furious with you, but how can I when you finally shut my brothers up? They’re both livid. You should probably go into witness protection.”

She so rarely has a sense of humor that it takes me a moment to realize she made a joke. “I wish I could.” I take a careful bite of muffin, catching the crumbs in my palm. “Where are they?”

“The city, to make funeral arrangements. Archie said if you aren’t here when he gets back, he’s going to tear the house down to find you.”

“I’ll be here.” There’s no point to any of this if I run away again.

The morning light halos her dark hair as she studies me. “Who is that boy you brought home? Do you like him?”

“Do you actually care?”

She shakes her head with a dry smile. “You’ve finally found your spine, so cut him loose and move on. As CEO you can take a new lover every week if you want.”

“Right.” I stand up and toss the last few bites of muffin into the nearest trash can. “So glad I asked.”

“You think I’m a terrible mother,” she comments as I leave the room, “but no one can argue with results.”

I don’t really know what I’m feeling as I go back upstairs.

I feel worse and better, both more and less like myself.

Jude’s still asleep when I look in on him.

Holding my breath, I tiptoe over to the bedside table and pick up his phone, typing in the passcode I’ve seen him use a dozen times.

He has three contacts: Mom, Library Lady, and Snot Rocket.

I copy Snot Rocket’s number into my phone, then go down the hall to my room.

I stretch out on the bed, close my eyes, and try to think.

I’ve spent my entire life asking questions—why am I not enough, what is the point of my existence.

I’m much less practiced at finding answers.

I’ve never felt so sure about something with a thousand potential repercussions.

But I debated this all night, and I know my answer.

Taking a deep breath, I dial the number.

I’m so ready to hear a chirpy teenage girl's voice that I lose my words when an older woman answers on the third ring. “Lena’s phone. This is her mom.” I forgot that Jude’s sister normally has assistance using her phone.

“Hi, can I please talk to Lena?”

“It’s early, and she’s not feeling well.” I try to picture the woman behind the voice, to hear Jude in the shape of it. She just sounds fed up and tired.

I want to ask her if she’s aware that her son, the one she’s tormenting, belongs to me now and I promised him I’d kill her with a bus. Instead, I say, “I’m from the admissions office at Montana State and I need to ask her a couple of time-sensitive questions.”

My authoritative voice seems to work on her. “One minute, I have to set up her phone.”

After a series of clunks and scrapes, Lena’s familiar voice comes on. “Hello?”

“Miss Bishop, I, uh, have to ask for legal reasons if other people are listening to this call.” The bullshitting part of business has never been my strong point.

“I have earbuds in,” she answers dubiously. “Wait, are you a debt collector?”

“No, no.” I steel myself. He might never forgive me for this, but I don’t care anymore. “My name’s Andrew and I’m your brother’s boyfriend.” After a long, confounded silence, I hear the whirring of a wheelchair motor like she’s moving to another room.

“Jude doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She sounds upset. “You are a debt collector, aren’t you? I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait,” I blurt desperately. “Please. I’ve only known him for four weeks and I love him so fucking much and I need you to listen to me.”

For a second, I think she cut me off. I close my eyes in relief when she speaks again. “What are you talking about? If you know Jude, why isn’t he with you?”

“Because he’d never agree to do this. Are you feeling alright, by the way? I heard you weren’t doing great last night.” It takes me a second to realize I just made myself sound monumentally creepier.

“I’m okay,” she ventures, subdued, still trying to figure me out. “I have a scan scheduled in an hour. If they find something, they’ll do the procedure. Seriously though, what do you want?”

“I…” When I sit up and look out the window, I can see the Scottish garden and the French garden, as well as the corner of the rose garden.

In the summer, people came from all over to tour them, and I used to lie up here alone and listen to all their interesting plant facts.

“I’m not sure where to start. There are a lot of things that Jude knows, and your parents know, but no one has ever told you.

That doesn’t seem right. They’re all acting like cowards.

And honestly, I’m really fucking worried about him.

I don’t think he can take this much longer. ”

When she answers, her voice sounds different. Older, more firm. “I’m listening. Go ahead.”