Page 89 of Survival

I scoffed. “No shit. Problem is, my patience is about gone. I’m at the end of my rope.”

Jet shook his head again, and I had to dial back the urge to hit him. “Nope. You’re going to be there for her when she’s ready. She’s just scared. So are you.”

The fuck?“Of what?” I bit out, and Jet rolled his eyes.

“She’s scared she can’t handle it. You’re scared you won’t be enough to help her. And neither of you have the guts to break down those walls yet.”

I shot Jet another glare. “You have no idea,” I growled, shoving off his car to head home.

ISABEL

My hands pressed gently, hesitantly, against the lid of the decorative storage box. The last gift Daddy had lovingly crafted for me after getting sick. Annie’s shower ran as background noise, my thoughts tumbling along with my emotions.

I hadn’t seen this box in months. Since my eighteenth birthday when I’d added the last treasured item inside and tucked it away.

The thought of opening it was scary, the box itself something cherished yet filled with things hard to remember. I thought of the letter I’d stored safely inside, the fissures in my chest pulsing with the memory of the last words my dad left me. Right now, one memorized line struck home.

I wonder if that special guy has stolen your heart yet.

Poor Tucker. I was always hurting him. He’d stolen my heart, not even trying, and once I’d realized how he felt about me, too, I’d given it to him. Completely. It was his even before then. I’d just held it safe until he was ready.

Now, I was considering taking it back.

Crap, I was a bitch. I was just as selfish as Tucker had accused me of being. Didn’t he deserve at least every ounce of my heart, ofmyself, that I could manage to salvage?

Of course, he does, and he deserved it long before now.

Steeling myself, I picked up the box, knowing what I had to do.

TUCKER

I’d expected my parents’ house to be dark when I got home, but light carried out from the kitchen, and still not ready to head to my empty bed, I went to investigate.

“Son,” Dad greeted. He was seated at the kitchen table, his newspaper spread out in front of him with a half-drunk cup of coffee.

“Dad.” I nodded my head and went to yank open the refrigerator door, digging out a sports drink and then went to grab a bag of chips from the pantry before joining my dad at the table. I sank down into the chair, throwing my legs out as I tackled the cap on my drink.

Dad turned a page in his newspaper and folded it over before looking at me. “Do I want to know what happened tonight?”

I paused at the comment, a chip held just inches from my mouth.

“I saw Izzy,” he explained when I just stared.

“Oh. No, not really.” Not that I was ready to share. I popped the chip into my mouth, and Dad laid his paper on the table, downing what was left of his coffee.

“Alright.” He pushed his chair back and stood into a large bear stretch. “Well, I’m hittin’ the hay. Your mom got worried when I saw Izzy earlier and wanted me to wait up.” He leveled me with a look, a last chance to talk before he headed to bed.

I just nodded. “Goodnight.” I stuffed another handful of chips in my mouth and polished off the last of my drink, getting up to toss them in the trash before following Dad out of the room.

Maybe tonight I’ll skip the nightmares.

I’d set one foot on the bottom step, Dad already halfway down the hall, when we both paused at a knock on the door. We looked at each other.

“You gonna get it?” Dad raised his brow.

“Sure.”Why not? It’s only three in the morning. Not weird at all.I pulled the door open, and Izzy blinked up at me from the doorstep, already dressed in her pajamas.

My stomach climbed to my throat. Why was she here now? Had she already made a decision? My palms began to sweat with panic. I wasn’t ready for this tonight. Her rejection. I thought for sure I had until tomorrow, at least.

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