Page 20 of From the Wreckage
Anger, humiliation, and disbelief rush through me. I blink, then swipe through the photos again, as if to convince myself that what I’m seeing is real.
The anger wins. I click on the text thread with Joey, my fingers moving before I can stop them.
Me: Who is she?
I stare at the screen, waiting. The dots never appear.
I continue eating my sundae, barely tasting it, watching my phone like a hawk.
Joey doesn’t respond.
By the time Dad’s customer says goodbye, my hands are shaking. I shove my phone down beside my half-eaten sundae, trying to school my expression into something neutral.
Dad slides back into his chair, eyeing me. “You okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah,” I lie, forcing a smile as I stab my spoon into the melting ice cream.
His eyes narrow just slightly, his dad radar kicking in. “Is it Joey?”
My throat tightens. I glance down at the sundae and whisper, “Yeah. I think the distance is hurting us.”
Dad sighs, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Then maybe he’s not the one worth hurting over.”
I nod, and my phone buzzes softly against the table. It’s not a reply from Joey, but another notification of some more photos posted by Meghan. I swipe through them, seeing more pictures of my friends with Joey and that girl in the background. My sundae tastes like sawdust.
And still, beneath the sting of Joey’s betrayal, another truth hums louder in my chest.I should be shattered.
Instead, all I can think about is Everett and the way he makes me feel like I actually matter.
CHAPTER 14
Everett
I can’t sit still.
I’ve tried everything—cleaning the cabin, pacing the porch, even pulling out the new novels I purchased. I read through one chapter of each of them before putting them aside. None of it works.
The only thing I’m looking forward to is hearing from her again.
My phone’s on the table in front of me. I don’t even pretend I’m not watching it like a hawk.
When it finally lights up, my pulse spikes.
Brielle: Just got back. Got ice cream with my dad.
The corner of my mouth lifts. Somehow, that simple line does more for me than anything else today.
I sink into the chair, my thumb already moving across the screen.
Me: What’d you get?
Brielle: Hot fudge sundae. Dad went for the banana split.
Me: Solid choices. Tell me you got extra whipped cream.
Brielle: Obviously. I’m not a monster.
A faint smile tugs at my lips, tension bleeding out of my shoulders. It’s ridiculous how a few words from her can flip me inside out.
