Page 582 of Rock Me All Night
18
Ipressmy cell between my palms.
It's been radio silence between me and my sister for months. There hasn't been a hint of contact. Not even anything as innocuous as a comment on a social media post.
Now we need to talk.
What the hell does she want to say?
My head is swimming. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and stare back at my reflection. What does the girl in the mirror want? There's no clarity in her expression. Only confusion.
I squeeze the phone as I make my way downstairs. My knuckles turn white. I lose all feeling in my hands.
Is she calling to apologize or to deliver bad news about Dad?
I'm not sure I can stomach either.
"Hey." Pete's voice cuts through the quiet room. He's sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.
I nod a hello back to him. I want to tell him about the call. I want to share the weight of this with someone. If it is bad news, if something has happened to Dad… I can't deal with that on my own.
Words refuse to find my lips. My mouth is sticky. Okay. I need more time to think. I take a seat on the couch. It's no good. The couch was comfortable last night. Right now, it feels like I'm sitting on a pile of rocks. Crossing my legs does nothing to help.
There are footsteps as he comes closer. I keep my eyes on the hardwood floor. I keep my fingers curled around my phone.
The weight on the couch shifts as he sits next to me. I can feel all the warmth of his body. I can feel his breath on my shoulder.
"You don't like me pushing you away," he says.
I nod.
"Don't like you locking me out either." He drags his fingertips over my shoulder and down my arm. "What's wrong?"
I open my mouth to speak but the words stay trapped in my throat. How do I explain my feelings towards Madison? I hate her and I love her. I never want to see her again and I miss her more than anything.
His hand finds mine. He peels my fingers from my phone.
"Hey, that's mine." I reach for my cell but he's already hiding it above my head. "Pete. Don't!"
"Don't what?"
"Give it back."
"If you tell me what it is that's upsetting you."
"You're pushy." I reach for his arm but I get distracted by how good it feels to touch him.
"Hey." He pulls me into his lap and hands my phone back. "Talk to me. You look miserable."
"My sister called."
He runs his fingertips over my chin. "What did she say?"
"That we need to talk."
"You need to talk to her."
"Excuse me?" I stare back into his eyes, but the affection in them disarms me. "You don't tell me what to do."
