Page 171 of Stuck With You
I have no fucking cluewhat to do now.
Chapter 46
SLADE
I sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my damp hair. I dial Krissy again, but she doesn’t answer. I squeeze my phone, wanting to throw it across my room.
I stare into the dark space. I can’t stand sitting here, unable to do a damn thing. My stomach squeezes tight, and my forearms hit my knees, feeling like I might hurl.
I inhale and exhale. My chest is so tight that the pressure is painful. I rub at the spot in the center, thinking the same thing I’ve thought all evening—Sarah.
The minute Krissy stormed out, she’s who I wanted to call. I wanted to hear her voice and have her hug me like only she does. The kind of hug that makes me think she might hang on and not let go.
I need her to tell me that Krissy will forgive me and that eventually, she’ll understand why I didn’t tell her about Macavoy and our mom.
But Sarah can’t do that because I haven’t shared any of it. I’ve not really told her anything.
Krissy is right. I’ve been protecting myself with Sarah, keeping her at arm’s length to ensure she doesn’t get close enough to hurt me. All that’s done is push her away.
I press my fist to my forehead, wanting to yell. I want to walk across the street and tell her how sorry I am and beg her to forgive me.
I glance at the time on my phone and blow out a breath. It’s after eleven.
Fuck it.
ME: Are you awake?
I wait for the three dots, hoping they’ll appear. When they don’t, I drop my phone on the bed beside me. I lie back, my throat burning with fear.
My phone vibrates. I roll up, blinking my eyes clear.
SARAH: Yeah.
My heart pounds, but this time with the tiniest bit of hope.
ME: Can I come over?
SARAH: Now?
ME: Yes.
She doesn’t respond right away. My phone slips in my sweaty palm while my pulse echoes in the silence.
SARAH: Sure. See you at the back door.
I tug on a sweatshirt and slip on my tennis shoes. The freezing air stings my nose and lungs as I make my way down my driveway and up Sarah’s.
I knock lightly on her back door, and she pulls it open. Her hair is a messy pile on top of her head, and she looks half asleep.
She wraps her arms around herself.
I suck in the icy air and hold it until my abs beg for relief. “Can you just. . .not be mad at me for a little while?” I choke out the vulnerability that dares to escape with desperation.
I want to grab her and never let her leave me.
Her brow scrunches, and her head falls to the side, staring at me. Then, she reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me inside. Just her touch eases the grip of panic, choking me.
She closes the door and locks it. Grover sits at my feet, his tail thumping against the floor, and Sarah hushes him.
