Page 61 of Sweet Oblivion

“I asked you a question,” I said.

His jaw jutted forward. “Nash, it’s not that simple…”

I stepped back, my guts churning, my mind whirling. “That’s the thing. It is. You let this happen to me. You went along with it.”

“Nash.” His voice cracked. I’d never seen Steve lose his composure. But now his jaw trembled.

“No. I don’t want to talk to anyone. You’ve all lied to me.” I stabbed my finger toward Steve’s face. His eyes dimmed further. “You lied to me,” I screamed. “All of you. And my mom…” A sob erupted as I ran from the room, tore out the front door.

I’d go to Aya. She’d know what to do.

I ran, picking up the pace, ignoring the gravel and detritus that cut into my feet.

I needed this night to never have happened. I’d go back to Aya’s house, to her bed, and wrap myself around her.

I’d wake up in the morning, and this would all be a dream.

A terrible, terrible nightmare.

23

Aya

Sometime in the night I rolled over, and my hand settled on the cool sheet next to me. I sat up, my stomach roiling. “Nash?”

The room was dark and cool. Quiet. Too quiet for Nash to still be there—he snored, though he didn’t believe me when I said so. As I pulled the sheet up over my naked chest, the faint sound of something shifted across the linen. With a squeak, I dove for the nightstand light and flicked it on as I jumped from the bed. I darted across the room and shimmied into a nightshirt and panties before creeping back toward the mattress.

I sighed, relief making my limbs limp when I saw the folded piece of paper with my name on top. I rubbed my thumb over Nash’s messy scrawl. My chest tightened as I unfolded the paper with extra care.

I didn’t want to leave. My dad kept texting, asking where I was. If I could have stayed, I would have. I wanted to wake up next to you. I wanted to kiss you again. I always want to kiss you. I’ll never get enough of your time or kisses.

Yours,

Nash

I traced my fingers over the letters. See? He must love me; he just struggled with the words. And who could blame him? His parents were a hot bloody mess. He just needed more time. He’d tell me eventually.

Someone knocked on my door as I frowned at the paper, wishing the Yours said Love. He didn’t have to say the words for me to know how he felt…

“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Aya, but we need to take your mother to the hospital.”

I set Nash’s paper on my nightstand. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Get dressed. I’ve called the ambulance as I think that’s better than me transporting her.”

I chewed on my lip as I pulled on a pair of leggings and a long tunic. I hurried down the hall, my head spinning, and burst into my mother’s room. It was light, airy, with sheer curtains at the large windows that overlooked the lake. Her large, balsawood bed had the sheers tied back. She lay huddled in the middle of them.

“Mum,” I cried, rushing toward her.

“Didn’t want to worry you, mon mignon,” Mum said, gasping and wheezing.

She seemed to shrink before my eyes. The wheezing grew louder. Her hand was cold, her fingers like frail, brittle twigs between my palms.

“You’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. “Everything will be fine. I love you.”

“Ah, ma petite belle. I love you too—to the moon and back again.”

“What is it? I asked.

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