Page 14 of Not Another Beach Read
Until she decided she missed me?
Until school starts and grandma and grandpa say I need to come back to their condo?
From somewhere in the house, I heard a toilet flush, followed by the soft padding of feet down the hallway. A door opened and closed—Uncle Drew checking on Eden, probably. The dog had claimed a spot at the foot of my bed until Aunt Elyse had gently coaxed her out, saying, "Let's give Holly some space tonight."
I kind of wished she hadn't. The weight of the dog would have been comforting. Another living thing breathing in the same space, not asking me how I was or starting up conversations just for the sake of filling the silence.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand (a real nightstand, not a cardboard box or milk crate like at the apartment I'd left to stay with my grandparents) and checked for messages from Mom. Nothing. Not for almost three weeks now. I shouldn't have been surprised, but the disappointment still stung.
With a sigh, I opened Instagram instead, scrolling mindlessly through photos of people I barely knew living lives that looked perfect from the outside. I stopped on a post fromKelsey, a girl from my school, posing with her mom at some fancy restaurant. #blessed #bestmomever
I closed the app before I could do something stupid like leave a bitter comment.
The house creaked and settled around me, unfamiliar noises that intermittently filled the silence. But they weren't scary noises—no shouting, no slamming doors, no sudden crashes or bangs. Just the normal sounds of a house at night. It sounded like Grandma and Grandpa's.
The bed was almost too comfortable, like one of those fancy hotel beds that swallow you whole. I wasn't used to this much cushion. At Grandma and Grandpa's, I slept on the pull-out sofa with a metal bar that dug into my back. At Mom's last apartment, my "bed" had been a somewhat clean mattress on the floor with an old tattered sleeping bag instead of sheets. I hadn't had a pillow in months and honestly I didn't even want to know what happened to it.
But lying there in the bed in Aunt Elyse's spare bedroom, It felt like I was playing pretend.
I rolled over again. Punched the pillow into submission. Through the half-open door, a sliver of light from the hallway spilled in. Aunt Elyse had asked if I wanted it closed all the way, and I'd shrugged and said, "Whatever." But she'd left it cracked, like she somehow knew I didn't like being shut in completely.
From down the hall, I heard soft laughter—Aunt Elyse and Uncle Drew talking in their room. Not arguing. Not crying. Not the tense silence that meant something bad was brewing. Just... talking. Normal.
How long would it last?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out how nice it all was. The clean sheets. The pillow. The soft mattress. The nightlight. The door left open just enough. The gentle murmur of voices that didn't sound angry or desperate.
The problem with nice things is that they never last. Not inmy experience. And the nicer they are, the more it hurts when they're gone.
I should know better than to get comfortable here for longer than a visit. Should know better than to unpack my bags or put my clothes in the lavender-scented dresser. Should know better than to expect a text from my mom telling me she found a new place for us. Should know better than to let myself think maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.
But as I finally drifted toward sleep, surrounded by unfamiliar comfort, a traitorous thought slipped through my defenses: What if this time really was different?
What if I couldstayhere?
7
ELYSE
As luck would have it, the day after Holly came to stay with us was the third Thursday of the month, which meant book club. We all took turns hosting at our houses, or if no one's home was available, we had our meeting at the library. That month, book club was being held at Paige's.
When Holly came into the kitchen late Thursday morning, I took note of her red-rimmed eyes complete with dark circles underneath. I really felt for her. Waking up somewhere new, even if she'd been here many times before, was just yet another change in her young life.
"How you doing, kiddo?" I asked the back of her head as she rummaged around in the pantry. I had been wise enough to purchase breakfast for teenagers, such as Pop-Tarts and Toaster Strudels, the latter of which she had set on the counter as she reached to an upper cabinet to get the toaster oven down.
I was happy that she was comfortable enough here to feel at home so quickly.
"I have to go to the bookstore," I began once her breakfast had begun to toast.
"Do I need to come with you?" she asked as she slid the pastries into the toaster. "Or can I stay here?"
"You can certainly stay here," I said. "We trust you to let us know if you're going to leave, where you're going, and what time you expect to return."
"I don't really know anyone here, so I doubt I'll be leaving. But I think I'm going to put my clothes away and catch up with a few of my friends back home."
"Well, feel free to spend the day however you see fit. Drew and I are just a text away if you need anything. Or if you change your mind and want me to come and pick you up, I can always put a sign up that I've left for the day."
"I think I'll be fine," she said, a smirk briefly replacing the typical straight line of her lips.
