Page 53 of A Boy Called Lovesong

The smile instantly faded from Lovesong’s face. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

The polite reply from me would normally have been “Thank you” or “I appreciate the sentiment,” but all I wanted to do was pull the tape out of my pocket and scream“Sorry? You’re sorry? Fuck you! This is all your fault! He’s gone because of you! He died, all because of you! I wish you were dead instead!”

I felt my heart hammer against my chest.

I felt my hands begin to shake.

I felt the words rising in my throat, ready to escape me in short, sharp breaths filled with hate.

But before I could give my fury life, he said, “Noah? Are you okay? I can feel you. I can feel you about to explode.” He set Chet aside on the bed and stood, his arms feeling their way toward me. “Noah, just breathe. God, I can feel your heart pounding through the floorboards. Please just breathe. You need to breathe through the grief.”

His hands found my shoulders and he held onto me tightly, his grip firm.

“Just breathe.”

“I am fucking breathing,” I spluttered, and I realized the words came out as a sob.

A grim, restrained, angry sob.

“Oh God, you’re hurting bad.”

Without a moment’s warning, he pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me.

His skin gave off the sun’s heat, even when the moon was out.

His arms were strong, but not so strong that I couldn’t push him away, which is exactly what I did.

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. I just need to…”

I needed to lash out, to punish him, to release the demons shrieking inside me.

But suddenly Chet was barking a warning, not at Lovesong but at me.

What was he doing, ordering me to back off?

Threatening to leave me for Lovesong?

Bargaining with me not to do what I had come here to do?

The bark split my head and dimmed my fire. My blood began to simmer down and I recalled Maybelle’s words to me earlier that day—“Let things simmer without ever boiling over. When things boil over… that’s when the Devil takes hold.”

“I think I just need to sleep.” I backed down, stepping toward my bed.

I dropped down onto it and the springs squeaked.

Lovesong sat on his bed opposite me, Chet sitting by his side.

Silence hung between us for a moment before he gently said, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Another pause. “Do you want me to bring Chet over to your bed?”

“No. He can damn well sleep where he wants. Now do you mind if I turn out the light?”

He shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

It was true, I guess.

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