Page 16 of Merry Me
“Nat, come on,” Paige called out after me, but I didn’t turn around.
Once I got there, I quickly slammed the door, locking it for good measure like I was barricading myself from a zombie apocalypse. I pressed my ear against the wood, trying to hear what was going on out there.
Muffled voices. Laughter. Footsteps. More laughter.
Traitors. Every last one of them.
I couldn’t do it. I’d been coaching myself since Paige had called to tell me about this magical Christmas wedding. I’d gone fullRockymontage, complete with mirror pep talks and themed playlists, telling myself this wasn’t going to be a big deal.
Lies. All of it.
This was a big deal. It was afuckingbig deal.
I needed Nerds Gummies. Where were my emergency Nerd Gummies?
Or vodka. I’d even take the cheap peppermint kind someone always brought to college parties and calledfestive. Anything to numb the growing flood ofoh no,oh no,oh no, currently rising in my chest like I was about to barf emotions everywhere.
I pushed away from the door and started pacing in a crazed circle, trying to figure out what to do while also avoiding the boxes my mom had all over the room because, obviously, she didn’t love me anymore and was trying to erase all evidence by making my room into a storage facility.
I finally stopped, hunched over, bracing my hands on my knees like I’d just finished running a marathon—or maybe like I was trying not to throw up. Either way, I was seconds away from a full-fledged meltdown.
I couldn’t face him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
My gaze darted to the window.
Oh no.
No.
But also…yes.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was sliding it open with a sharp squeak and pulling one leg over the sill, adrenaline pumping as I prepared for a good old-fashioned sneak-out.
Just like I used to do.
Just like I used to dofor him.
Because we’d been so disgustingly, stupidly in love that twenty-four hours in a day had not been enough. I would sneak out in pajamas, barefoot, just to lie on the hood of his truck and talk about life. Or climb into the passenger seat of his beat-up Ford and drive until the road ran out.
Fuck. He really was everywhere in this house. In this town. In my godforsaken, traitorous head.
This was not acceptable.
With a frustrated grunt, I grabbed onto the window frame and hoisted the rest of myself out of the house. The ground didn’t seem that far. I’d just land gracefully like I had a few years ago and slip away before anyone even realized I was gone.
Except…I didn’t.
I slipped on the wet grass thesecondmy feet hit the ground and went flailing, arms and legs pinwheeling until I crashed into the thorny, overly aggressive bush just below the window. Branches scratched my arms, something distinctly slimy grazed my ankle, and I waspretty surea bug flew into my mouth mid-yelp.
I was still flailing when a deep, maddeningly familiar voice cut through the night air.
“Need a hand?”
The voice froze me mid-struggle.
No. No, no, no.
But also, kill me now. Why wasn’t he in the fucking house already? That knock had beenagesago. Hadn’t they all just been laughing and stabbing metaphorical knives in my back?
