Page 155 of Dare To Fall

“Sweetheart, you have to eat something.”

I move to the stairs. “I’m going to my room.”

“Arabella.”

I ignore my mother’s call and take the steps two at a time. I don’t bother with my bags. Everything in them is a reminder of Kellan. I’m still reeling from everything that’s happened, and I’m not sure when I’m going to stop.

Quiet voices talk below me, but I don’t pay attention to what they are saying. All I’m focused on is escaping. I reach my room and open the door, slip inside it, and rest against the wood.

Now that I’m finally alone, the silence closes in on me. Sorrow drowns my brain, and a painful breath catches in my throat.

Don’t think.

I wipe a hand over my eyes, blinking hard to keep back the tears, and step away from the door. Digging out my cell, I open the conversation I have with Miles and send him a text.

Me: How are you doing? I’m here if you want to talk.

I wait for a beat, but there’s no reply.

Maybe he’s resting? Or he just doesn’t want to talk after what happened.

I drop the cell onto the bed and glance around my room. The restless urge to keep moving drives me to my closet, where I stare at the half-unpacked boxes. I grab the first one and pull it out. Kneeling beside it, I lift the lid and pluck the books out to stack them on the floor. I sort through them, putting them in order before transferring them to the empty bookshelf by the wall. When the box is empty, I move on to the next one. I’ve just finished with the third box when there’s a tap at my door.

“Come in.” My voice sounds flat, empty of emotion.

Elliot’s head appears around the door, and he steps inside. “I brought you a sandwich. Cheese and tomato. And a cup of tea.”

The thought of food makes me feel nauseous.

I spare him a glance before returning to the contents of the box in front of me. “Thanks.”

He places the tray he’s carrying on my desk by the wall. “I see you’re finally unpacking. Better late than never, right?”

I cradle my music box against my chest and carry it over to the bookcase.

Elliot watches me, his expression troubled. “If there’s anything you need, Arabella, all you have to do is ask. Your mother and I are here for you both.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Eli needs you more than I do.”

“My son has locked himself in his room and won’t talk to anyone.”

“He’s hurting. Kellan … it’s still raw.”

He sighs. “I know that. We’ve … had a hard time communicating since his mother died. After my heart attack, things started to change for the better. Now … I’m frightened I might have lost him for good this time.”

Just like I’ve lost him.

How do we find our way back from here?

I draw an unsteady breath into my lungs, and return to my boxes. “I’m sorry. I … I need to get this done.”

Elliot studies me for a long silent moment, then nods. “Keeping busy? I did the same thing when my first wife died.”

Our eyes meet and hold, and I’m sure I see a flash of understanding in his gaze. As if he knows that if I stop, I’m going to fall apart all over again, and I just can’t handle that right now.

He clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it. We’re hoping you and Eli will join us for dinner this evening.”

Kneeling, I unwrap a snow globe from my box. “Maybe.”

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