Page 60 of Moving Forward

I bring my hand up to my bandaged head, suddenly tired. “So, it’s okay for Ellie to be emotional but not Cain? Ellie can freak out, but he’s not allowed?” I pause to let out a yawn. “If he left . . . what if he doesn’t come back? What if he doesn’t want to see me again?”

“I’m sure he will . . .”

“You can’t be sure. I just . . . I . . .” I feel myself start to fade. “Tell Ellie I’m fine, but that I don’t want to see her right . . .”

CHAPTER TWENTY

CAIN

The inside of my boat is trashed. Amazing how I’m a tedious organizer one second and a chaotic storm the next. When I got home, I was full of so much rage and contempt for myself that I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Most of my furniture is tipped over, and there’s a hole through the thin wall separating the main room and the bathroom.

I want to be so numb there’s nothing left, and I don’t care or feel. It’s the only way to survive, really. The less you care, the less you worry about getting hurt.

It was a mistake to leave my boat the first time I met her. If I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be here. I would have never met her. I would have never fallen in love with her. I wouldn’t have had to save her today. She wouldn’t have even gotten hurt to begin with.

Another drink. I need to get her out of my head. That hair. Those hips. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she makes me feel. Thoughts of her can’t exist in my head or heart anymore.

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“. . . ruining yourself. I don’t know how you think this will solve anything. How on earth does this make you feel better? How can you even live this way?”

I throw my arm over my eyes. Too early, too bright, too loud, too everything.

Grams keeps talking, rummaging around my boat as she puts everything back in its place. “We’re going to throw out all of your alcohol. The last thing we need is for you to be any more dependent on liquor than you already are.”

“I’m fine.” A headache starts to throb in my temple. Great. A hangover plus a pissed-off grandmother is the last thing I need right now.

She laughs, a little hysterically. “Fine? I raised you, so you don’t get to lie to me, boy. You are not fine. You’re the opposite of fine.”

“Grams . . .”

She lets out a long shaky breath. I peer up at her. She’s frailer than I’ve ever seen her, and I know I'm the reason for that.

I sit up, moving over so she can sit beside me on the bed. Well, what’s left of it, at least. The mattress is lying half on and half off my bed frame. All the blankets are tangled up in my legs. I have absolutely no idea where my pillows are.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask.

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