Page 95 of Too Far

In those two days, I haven’t slept.

I’ve mulled over every excuse as to why. I’ve tried so damn hard to drum up reasons that aren’t so pathetic.

Because I refuse to accept the truth: That it hurts. That it’s not getting better. That I’m incomplete. That he’s not going to change his mind.

The erratic rhythm of droplets pelting the roof makes it impossible for me to drift off. That’s my most valid excuse. It’s the rain. Or the sounds of Scout scampering in the junk yard. It’s the unfamiliarity of this too-small bed. The scratchiness of the sheets, which were perfectly fine until I lay in a bed of thousand thread count Egyptian cotton at the Crusade mansion.

Fucking fancy sheets on that annoyingly comfortable bed.

I considered going to Hunter’s. Her offer is open-ended, but she warned me that she expects her mom to waltz back into town any day, and that when she does, things may go sideways.

Being back at Sam’s will have to do for now.

My uncle’s typically gone during the week anyway, and here, I’m close to campus. Here, I can bypass the lake. Avoid the marina. It’s easier here.

No. That’s a lie.

It’s been nearly three weeks, and nothing is easier. Nothing hurts less.

Beside me, Nicky groans and blows out a breath as he tries to stretch out his arms overhead in a way that won’t jostle me.

“You’re okay. I’m awake.”

He goes rigid for an instant at the sound of my voice, but then he rolls to his side, kisses my hair, and spoons me from behind.

It was his turn to stay with me tonight.

Even though he’s not comfortable here.

Even though cramming onto this too-soft twin-size mattress in my makeshift bedroom at Sam’s place leaves him sorer and achier than usual the next day.

None of them are comfortable here, but they all refuse to stay away.

Secretly, I’m grateful.

On the rare occasion I do manage to sleep, I wake up in fits. My heart races, and flashes of boat rides I wish I’d never taken and words I wish I’d never whispered haunt me.

I thought we could press past it.

I thought if I gave him time, he’d cool off.

Foolishly, I thought he would change his mind.

“What time is it? Why aren’t you sleeping, Hot Girl?”

Keeping my back to him, I shrug. I don’t have a clue what time it is. As for his second question, I don’t have an answer.

Silent tears drip down my cheeks and fall to the sheet beneath me. I blink, and more join them.

Somehow knowing, he sits up and tugs on my shoulder until I’m flat on my back.

His lips find my cheeks in the dark.

The tender way he kisses away the tears only inspires fresh ones to fall.

I love and appreciate what he’s doing, what they’re all doing to support me through this.

I should cherish the one-on-one time with each of them, but I can’t shake the longing that consumes me. To experience the unique intensity of the five of us together again.