Page 149 of Choosing Forever
I don’t bother with shoes. Barefoot, I open the door and step onto the porch. Delaney’s already on the street, getting into her car.
I’ve always known this was fragile. Last night changed a lot between us and put what I want us to be into motion, but she didn’t take her ring. Hearing her ask for it back is how I’ll know she’s completely in it with me, her fear a thing of the past. From the moment she took it off and handed it back to me, I’ve needed her to have it again. It belongs on her finger, but it’s not there yet.
It’s still around my fucking neck.
She looks over at me once I step onto the street, crossing to her. The tears in her stop me dead in my tracks. I stare at her, this all-consuming parasite inside of me feasting on every chunk of happiness I’ve collected.
No, she mouths.
I listen to the silent word this time, forcing myself not to move when she starts her car and drives right past me. The sight of her leaving settles like poison in my stomach. It’s wrong. The distance that grows with every house she passes rips at me until I’m sure she’s taking all the important parts with her.
Dropping my head back, I stand on the street in nothing but my pyjamas and stare at the sky, hoping that I’ll be able to fix this. There’s no other option for me. Not this time.
***DELANEY***
An hour into sorting through the piles of shit in my grandma’s basement, and I’m no longer in the mood.
To be fair, I wasn’t to begin with, but considering what happened this morning, it was either this or slashing Sasha’s tires. I’ve wanted to do that for a loooooooong time now. I even dreamed of it once. I stopped searching up what specific types of dreams meant after that.
I kick another one of the plastic tubs of old clothes and yell, letting it punch through the crumbling insulation. My yell turns into a scream and then a broken sob as I bend over my knees and heave. I swipe the tears off my cheeks as they fall and glare at the towering stack of bins I still need to go through.
The ache between my legs when I haul another bin toward me makes my anger swell. I’m sore, tired, and really fucking annoyed. Why is it that Sasha’s always there? She does nothing but stab her fingers into all of my wounds, laughing like a hyena the whole time.
I’ll never escape her, and this morning only reminded me of that.
My phone buzzes again from wherever I left it earlier, but I already know who it is without needing to look. Darren’s called every hour since I left his house, twice at the start. I’m not ready to talk to him yet despite his constant effort.
The bin I chose is overfilled with more clothes, but they don’t belong to my grandmother this time. Rounding it, I crouch in front of the single word scrawled across the blue plastic in her writing.
Laney’s.
The first thing in the bin is an old sweater that I think used to be purple but is now a washed-out white. I set it on the floor and stare at the next thing. The purple jersey with the number 17 stitched on the arm steals the air from my lungs. I drop to my ass on the dirty concrete and stare at the fabric, my mind running backward as I pull it out of the bin.
“Throw it out! I don’t want to see it ever again,” I shout.
Grandma shakes her head stubbornly and holds the jersey out of reach. “I’m not throwing this away. You’ll regret getting rid of these things, Laney. I promise you that.”
“I can’t look at them anymore!”
My lungs pinch so tightly I can hardly breathe. The wall I’ve built around me and my past with Darren is wobbling with every second I stare at his jersey. The burn in my chest is too much right now. Sasha’s pregnant belly is branded into the backs of my eyelids, a constant reminder of what I came home to. This is just too much.
“I’m keeping them because one day, you’ll wish I had.”
“The only thing I wish is that I never met him in the first place.” I hold my head, shaking it. “Get rid of it.”
She moves, and I look at her again, expecting to see it gone. What she holds up is worse than the jersey.
My tears are instant. The sob that follows leaves me on the floor. Arms wrap around me, holding me up. I try to push her away, but she holds me tighter, pulling me into her chest.
“It’s okay, Laney. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I crack and plead, “Put it away. Please. Take it away from me.”
Her arm moves before returning to hold me. “It’s gone. I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”
Blinking, I swipe away the tears I didn’t feel drip. The jersey smells stale, old. Huntsly is written on the back, the lettering in perfect condition. It feels the same, still thin and cheap with the high school’s sports budget.
I rest it in my lap and return my gaze to the bin. The jacket staring back at me steals my breath. My pulse slows, turning thready as I slowly touch the number on the sleeve, then the bronze buttons. I sniff and try to swallow.
