Page 150 of Promise Me Nothing
It just seemed easier. Leaving all of this behind, since I can’t be of use to anyone anyway.
“Yeah. We’re leaving for the bus station at ten.”
“That’s only a few hours from now,” he rushes out. “Hannah, you can’t just…leave.”
I shake my head. “I can. And it’s probably for the best.”
“You’re wrong. There’s so much here for you.”
And I can’t help myself when the next words pour from my lips. “Like what? A brother who tricked me into coming here, a bunch of rich people I don’t fit in with, a city too expensive for me to live in, and a boy who got touse me in plenty of ways,” I say, my voice cracking at the end as emotion floods me.
“Hannah,” his voice is tortured. “Please let me explain. I didn’t mean that. I swear. I said it in anger, not because I…”
“Wyatt, you promised you never wanted to hurt me. And you said itknowingyou were going to. This is why I wanted you not to make any promises. I told you to promise me nothing, and things would be a lot easier. But instead, you made me believe something. Made me believeinsomething. And then youstoleit from me.”
He starts to protest again but I cut him off.
“I called to tell you about Ivy, not to talk this out. Please come by and get her because we have to leave in a few hours.”
And then I hang up the phone, just as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.
Lucas takes in my facial expression and pauses. But before he can say anything, Ivy stirs on the couch.
She stays asleep, and Lucas comes to my side, glancing down at her. “Is that Ivy?”
I nod. “She knows you’re her brother,” I say. “And that Calvin isn’t her dad.”
Lucas’ mouth drops open, but I look out the window to the ocean in the distance, though it’s hard to see with how dark it is.
“She has a lot going on in that mind of hers. I think she ran away. Or just needed a break from her house.”
“Like sister like sister, huh?” Lucas says.
I spin around and look at him.
“What do you mean?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Sometimes, when life hurts, or gets too hard, you need a little space and perspective before you go back and face things.”
Then he turns and heads into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
I nod. “Like me leaving Phoenix and now going back.”
“Or you leaving here.” Lucas takes a sip of his water, then recaps it. “Maybe you need space and perspective about what has happened here, so you’re running away for a little bit.”
“That’s not what’s happening,” I say, crossing my arms.
But he just nods, gives me a little shrug. One that oozes of a confidence I wish I had. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“Okay.”
I stomp a foot – really mature of me – and bark at him. “Stop it. You’re twisting this, making it seem like I’m running when I’m not. I don’t fit here. I don’t belong. I never did.”
“According to who?”
His face is soft when he asks me that, and I know he doesn’t mean to make me emotional, but I feel this sudden urge to break down in tears.
