Page 139 of Never You

“This is not the end of it.” She spins on her high heels, strutting up the stairs before disappearing into the house.

Della stares at the front door with a vacant look in her eyes, and I run my hand through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Did that really happen?” She blinks, and we stay quiet, knowing it's a rhetorical question. “She tried to marry me off,” she repeats the question a few times, staring into nothing. Each time her words get more frantic, until finally, she collapses against me. Holding her up, she buries herself into my chest as she starts to sob.

“I got you. I’m here,” I chant. “We are here. We got you.”

Finn wraps his arms around both of us, pressing a kiss on her head.

“We do, Della. We got you. It’s us three from now on,” he says with a calmness that soothes my heart, before relief falls over me like a warm blanket when I realize what this means.

I’m finally free.

44

When I found Sean in that locker room with his dick in some other girl, I was livid.

I threw all their clothes on the ice, and I laughed when both of them were shuffling onto the rink with their bare-naked asses. I got home, humiliated as hell, and I comforted myself with a bottle of champagne that I kept in the fridge for special occasions. Thinking getting cheated on was a pretty damn special occasion.

Then, at three in the morning, my rage turned into sadness, and I cried my eyes out for two hours, singing sappy love songs. When I woke up the next morning, I called Johnny, told him what happened and how I was going to take the day off.

I went to Venice Beach by myself, and while sitting on the hot sand, I stared into the ocean, waiting for the pain to come out. But nothing came.

No, if anything, I felt relieved. So before dinnertime, I went back home, ordered a pizza and watched a rerun of Friends, all while feeling pretty good about myself.

If that was a heartbreak, I could handle that. Easy peasy. I’ve gone through worse.

So, when Jensen went to New York on Sunday, I figured that was what was going to happen. I was angry, then I cried my eyes out, felt like a fool for believing him, but by Monday morning, I thought I’d be all good.

Ready for my new start. The whole reason I moved back home.

But by the time Saturday arrives, it becomes clear I underestimated my feelings for Jensen. I’ve been sitting at the riverbank, crying, for most of my days, before I go back home and go to bed.

Nana forced me to eat something yesterday, because apparently, I’m losing weight. Which is probably true since the permanent lump in my throat makes it hard to eat anything. Not to mention my lack of appetite. I wasn’t even excited when Nana made me fried chicken.

My mind is too occupied with missing him.

My car is tainted. I can’t drive anywhere without imagining him behind the wheel, reminding myself of the safe feeling I felt while I’d stare out of the window with him next to me. My bed feels empty without him too, even though he was only there for one night. It’s hard to admit, but he buried himself in my heart, and he’s too deep to get out.

He hasn’t contacted me. Part of me hoped he’d text me, call me, demanding me to talk to him. Anything. But after six days of complete radio silence, I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t mean what he said. Or maybe he did, but it’s clearly not important enough.

I’mnot important enough.

I’m waiting patiently impatiently, before his engagement is announced on the eight o’clock news, but so far, it’s been quiet.

When a knock sounds on my door, I let out a feral grunt, having every intention to ignore whoever is standing on the other side.

I don’t want to talk to anyone. They left me alone for most of the week, just giving me sad glances whenever I passed by, and I’m glad for it, because I could barely handle that. Let alone talk about it or listen to comforting words. There is nothing they can say to make me feel better.

Another knock sounds.

“Rae, open the damn door.” Kayla’s muffled voice bellows through the wood.

“Go away!” I yell back, moving my body up while glaring at the door. “Unless you have fried chicken. You can put that in front of the door and then go the fuck away!”

I’m not hungry, but I’m willing to try some fried chicken again.

Unapologetically, Kayla bursts through the door, rolling her eyes.

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