Page 62 of Never the Best

After four or five bites, she set the fork down, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t do more.” Her voice was tinged with guilt.

“That’s okay,” I assured her immediately. “You ate plenty. You did great, Pearl. That’s all your body needs right now.”

I picked up the plate and set it aside, not wanting her to feel any pressure to finish it. I handed her the glass of water instead. “Take a few sips,” I urged.

She did as I asked, taking small, careful sips of water. Her hands were still shaking, and I placed mine over hers to steady the glass.

“That’s it. No rush.”

“I hate this,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “I hate that I can’t even eat, which is like the simplest thing in the world to do. A baby can do it. It feels like…I’m failing at being a person.”

“You’re not failing.” I wanted to cry because my heart broke for her, but I couldn’t, not now when I was her pillar of strength. “Pearl, this isn’t a failure—it’s a battle. And you’re fighting. Even now. Even when it’s hard, and that’s courage.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, her jaw tightening as she tried to hold back the tears.

“Hey.” I reached out to tilt her chin, so she had to look up at me. “It’s okay to feel like this. It’s okay to cry. Letting yourself feel is a sign of strength, not weakness.”

And that was it. The tears spilled over, and she let out a soft, broken sob. I pulled her into my lap, holding her as she cried into my chest, her body trembling against mine.

“It’s going to get better,” I murmured, stroking her hair. “I promise you, Pearl. We’ll take it one step at a time, and I’ll be here for all of it. You’re not alone in this.”

We stayed like that for a while, her tears eventually slowing, her breathing evening out. When she finally pulled back, her face was blotchy, her eyes red, and yet she looked peaceful. I was grateful for that.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “This is what I’m here for. Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded, her lips pressing into a faint, shaky smile. I felt a glimmer of hope. She’d eaten a few bites. She’d let herself cry. And she’d let me stay.

I carried her to bed after that, and sat beside her, holding her hand as she fell asleep.

“You’ll never have to deal with any of this on your own. Not ever again,” I vowed to her sleeping form and brushed my lips against her cold cheek.

CHAPTER 22

Pearl

The cottage was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of crickets outside and the low hum of the ceiling fan. I was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, even though the summer heat was thick and suffocating. But I was cold. No surprise there. I had no reserves in my body to maintain my temperature.

I wasn’t sleeping—not really—but I wasn’t awake, either. It was the kind of restless dozing I’d come to know too well in the past few days.

Rhett, Aunt Hattie, and Missy came and left all day every day. I barely noticed. I didn’t know how many days had passed since I relapsed. I had resisted talking to my therapist—which I knew was frustrating my caregivers. But they were also relieved that I ate small bites of food, I don’t know how many times a day, but it felt like whenever I was awake, someone was making me eat or drink a little. I fought my instincts to hide away, and, instead, ate as much as I could.Sometimes, it was only one bite of food. I kept waiting for one of them to get aggravated with me. Instead, all I got was encouragement.

“You’re doing great, darlin’,”Hattie said.

“You ate half a slice of bread. Awesome job.”That was Missy.

“You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m so proud of you.” Rhett said some version of that to me all the time.

I hadn't touched my phone since I texted Nina and Layla to tell them I needed some time off. I didn’t want to. I was almost afraid to see messages or missed calls from my mother or brother. Or people I knew, people I thought liked me but would now pity me. So, I stayed quiet and burrowed into Rhett whenever he was around. Why he was the one to offer me the comfort that I felt safest with, I didn’t know. I was sure my therapist would have a field day with that when I finally worked up the courage to talk to him. I had canceled my sessions or, rather, had just not shown up. Rhett had assured me he’d taken care of letting my therapist know I wasout of commission—his words.

I heard muffled sounds drifting through the windows, and I groaned when I heard my niece Maddie’s voice. I didn’t want Alice or Maddie to see me like this. I’d told Rhett, Aunt Hattie, and Missy that I didn’t wantanyvisitors. I mean, I had enough withthemhovering over me already.

I snuggled further into the couch and under my blanket, like a child, hoping that if I couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t be able to see me.

Talk about age regression!

I tried to block them all out by putting the palms of my hands over my ears, but I could still hear them. So, I gave up and just let it go. Eavesdropping felt childish, but everything I was experiencing felt that way—like I wasn’t a mature grown-up any longer.

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