Page 15 of What's Left of Us

Because then I’d have to make a decision.

“Why didn’t you stop me tonight then?”

I’m met with momentary silence before she speaks on the softest exhale. “Because he’s not you.”

For the briefest moment, I close my eyes.

“Stay,” I hear her say next. “Stay the night.”

I stop in the middle of her tiny living room, where temporary, cheap furniture sits until she can find something else. I wonder if her father put her here as punishment for everything she’s done.

She used to have it all. Over two thousand square feet of space that was hers to do what she chose with. A house with a reading nook she loved spending time in. Cheap bookshelves I put together that lined the wall beside it, full of every color and shape book to add to her never-ending to be read list. A kitchen to experiment with new recipes in, no matter the mess she made or the inedible outcome of the meal.

Yet she sacrificed it for this.

For this life withoutme.

To spend it with someoneelse.

So, I swallow my pride and say, “No.”

As I walk out of the room, her rushed footsteps follow me to the front door. “I didn’t know,” she tells me, catching my arm. “That day, I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

Don’t go.

Don’t go.

Don’t go.

She knew enough.

“I didn’t know,” she repeats, this time her tone broken as her hand drifts toward the injury.

I refuse to let her.

“You knewsomething,” I counter, grabbing her wrist and squeezing it once before dropping it away from me. “You knew what your father was capable of. Matt was your friend too.”

The amber in her eyes becomes glassy as her throat bobs.

“His blood is just as much on your hands as it is on mine,” I declare, storming out.

*

During my nextsession with Doctor Castro, it’s me who breaks the silence first. “Have you ever cheated before, doc?”

The question has her raising her eyebrows. I spent the first few minutes staring silently at all the fall décor she decorated her office with over the past week. Fall is my second least favorite season, following winter. Everything is pumpkin-scented or flavored, the trees lose their leaves, and the cool temps make my body hurt. It’s a reminder of what’s to come for the next six months.

But I’ll give the good doc one thing. It looks nice in here. Cozy. Like HomeGoods threw up in here. In a classy kind of way.

“Cheated how, exactly?” she inquires, adjusting her glasses higher up her nose. Does she even need those, or are they for sure?

I pocket that question for another time. “Cheated at all. My friends and I used to cheat on our math tests. They tended to copy my answers because I was better with numbers than they were. But, in return, they’d write my English papers so I wouldn’t have to read those dry-ass books.”

Right before I blink, I see a glimpse of amusement flicker across her face. Is that smile number five? “No, I’ve never cheated.”

“Not even in a past relationship?”

She shakes her head. “No. I believe communication is key in any relationship, and if there’s a problem that can’t be fixed by talking it out, I find it better to end things. It’s less messy that way.”

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