Page 94 of Swim To Me

“No,” she cuts in, voice firm. “Seriously Delilah, listen to me. You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to be in control all the time. It’s not realistic and you’re exhausting yourself trying to keep up. I know I was too young to understand much when Dad left, and I wasn’t there to help pick up the broken pieces he left behind but I’m here now. You can lean on me.”

“I’m your older sister,” I sob, wanting to believe Aurelia, but the mean thoughts in my head have me in a chokehold. “I shouldn’t need to lean on you.”

“I don’t care, Delilah. We’re sisters, you can always lean on me. You don’t have to pick up the pieces alone anymore.”

I’ve got nothing else to say, nothing left to give, except my mind is full of things to think about.

Which is why I’m so surprised at how tired I feel, my eyes slipping closed, the tide of sleep pulling me under, deeper and deeper with each breath.

“Close your eyes,” Aurelia directs, placing a kiss to my cheek, situating my head on the pillow like a child. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

The brightly shining sun outside mocks me when I wake, eyes so swollen from crying they’re hard to crack open. My mouth is dry, tongue like sandpaper, but I don’t have the energy to force my legs out of bed to search for a glass of water.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t want to face the day. I can’t.

Instead, I lie staring up at the textured ceiling, the familiar scent of my sister all around, while my treacherous brain runs away with itself as it usually does at any given chance.

I wonder what he’s doing at this exact moment.

How he feels.

I wonder why he chose to keep it a secret – because he just wanted to sleep with me? Because he didn’t trust me? Because he was scared?

In my mind’s eye, I can picture him –Grey– sitting on the edge of his sofa, a worn swimmer’s medal pooling in his lap, leg shaking nervously. His mouth is open, lips moving, but I can’t hear him; not the way I could last night when the truth slithered from his soul.

Yesterday, his words had been crystal clear.

Now, they’re mixed up, muddled but his actions are no less sharp, no less jagged as they cut into me.

Because it’s not Grey’s words that hurt, it’s his secrecy. It’s his choice to keep a secret like that knowing I’d be upset, knowing there could be potential repercussions. Those are no less hurtful.

He’s a coward for not telling me sooner, for wanting to keep me that little while longer, rather than tell me the truth and allow me to make the decision as to whether I wanted to stay or leave the relationship we’d created for ourselves.

For his own selfish reasons, Grey kept me in the dark.

So, I would stay.

So, he wouldn’t have to worry about me leaving the romantic relationship growing between the two of us.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Aurelia swims into my line of vision, leaning over me, a strand of her unbound hair tickling my forehead. “I’ve made some breakfast; will you come and have a bite?”

The first response on my tongue is no.

But I’ve been here before, I know not eating doesn’t do me any good and if I want to work past the mental blocks in my brain, if I want to truly believe Aura’s words from yesterday evening, then I need to get up and push past the negative thoughts.

It doesn’t mean I’m not going to be upset, or hurt, or even that I’m not going to wallow.

It means I’m going to be strong enough to keep going, to keep pushing, even when it feels impossible, even when I don’t want to.

Linking my arm through my sister’s, I follow her into her kitchen, my stomach grumbling at the scent of coffee and pastries.

I tuck into the chocolate and hazelnut filled croissant hidden within the confines of a crinkly takeout bag stained with grease, licking the flaky crumbs from my fingertips.

Across the table, Aura digs into her own strawberry glazed tart. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” I admit, and then hold up my half-eaten brunch. “But this is helping some.”

Aurelia smiles brightly, but it falls quickly when my phone chimes loudly. I make the mistake of glancing at the blue lit screen, feeling the mouthful of pastry I’m chewing form a hard lump in my throat at the name splayed across my notifications.

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