Page 57 of Ward Willing
I hear her follow me out, and I take in the empty hallway with a relieved sigh. Before she can fight me more, I take an intimidating step closer so she’s pressed against the wall of the hallway, clutching a book to her chest.
“Go home, Zoe. I’ll excuse your absence.”
She scoffs. “Isn’t that called preferential treatment?”
My brows furrow. “No, because if it was the anniversary of their parents’ death, I’d give them the day off, too,” I say, my voice a little too sharp as I nod toward the door of my classroom.
She flinches, and her eyes well with tears. “Howkindof you.”
I grit my teeth together. “Go. Home.”
“I don’t have a home!” she yells, one of the unshed tears slipping down her cheek. “You keep telling me to gohome, but I have no idea what you mean by that.”
My chest, my throat, my eyes—everythingachesat her words as I rear my head back. Pressing my lips together, I place one hand near her head, pinning her in place.
“You do have a home.Myhome. And it will always be your home. Today, tomorrow, or years from now. They might be gone,” I add, my voice cracking, “but I’m not.”
Her eyes search mine as another tear spills over. She swipes it away quickly, and I wish I could take away every ounce of pain, every single tear, and every broken thought.
“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but please stop. Not today. You can’t possibly know how it feels to have your whole world swept out from underneath you. I’m… displaced,” she adds, emotion clawing at her words.
I want to protect her from all the pain and be a bigger person, but her words cut deeply for me, too.
I lean closer so that our faces are inches apart. The rational side of me knows that I should take a step back so that we’re not discovered in an incriminating position, but I don’t give a fuck right now.
Grief clogs my throat as I try to find the words to explain. “When my mother died, I felt that tether snap, too. And I never really felt that sense of ‘home’ with my father, so growing up, despite my parents being around, it never felt likehomebecause my father never gave anyone his affection. Not even my mother.I used to watch movies likeHome Alonein awe because I never had that. My father never gave me a fucking ounce of love, instead choosing to toughen us up for the real world. Chase had Jackson, his best friend. Malakai had god, and Orion had his new family that wasn’t so fucked up. Miles put everything he had into Ravage Consulting Firm. Guess what I had?”
Zoe is crying fully now, her shaky breaths bracketed by sniffling as she swipes at her cheeks with her free hand. A tremor of guilt passes through me, but the point I’m trying to make is sitting on my chest like a heavy, weighted blanket.
“I had Elias Arma. My best friend from the time I was seventeen. The one person I could tell anything to. The person who never judged me no matter how different our lives were.” I rub my eyes to quell the tears threatening to spill out. Even now, talking about him and realizing I’ll never get to talk to him again… It’s like someone is squeezing my heart before tearing it to shreds. “And he’s gone now, Zoe. He’s gone, and I’m alone.”
Zoe’s anguished expression falls as she begins to sob, and I can’t take it anymore. I grab her and pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her as she cries. As her sobs cleave through her. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the grief wash over me slowly. I hear her drop her book as her arms snake around me, clutching me tightly.
“You’re not the only one who feels displaced and alone.I’mhere. We’re both grieving the same two people, Zoe. And we’re all that’s left of them.”
She cries harder, and I squeeze her tighter as I rest my chin on the top of her head.Fuck,this is hard.
After Elias and Brooke got swept up in the flood, Zoe and I joined the search team. We didn’t give up for over ninety hours—looking through the night, taking turns napping, staying positive. But when they found the bodies…
I’d never seen anyone so distraught. She wasfifteen.The last thing she needed was to bury her parents. I was too busy grappling with their loss, getting lost in my very own darkness, to reallyseehow hard this was on her. Not just imminently, but in her everyday life.
Staying at Thatcher instead of living with me.
Never coming home except for a day or two for holidays—because it wasn’t her home, was it? It was mine, and despite knowing her since she was a baby, I wasn’tthem.I wasn’tfamily.
The day of their funeral, Elias’s estate manager gave me a copy of his and Brooke’s will, listing me as Zoe’s guardian should anything happen to them. I was flabbergasted; Elias had a sister, Carolina, and I assumed Zoe would go live with her.
But Elias left a note for me explaining why, and I was too much of a coward to open it.
I still haven’t mustered up the courage to read it.
After she went back to school, I barely saw her shed a tear. Instead, she put on a brave face and continued with her daily routine. It made sense to me at the time, but now I realize she shoved that grief somewhere deep inside to get away from it.
I didn’t see her for six months, only getting vague responses when I texted her and progress reports from school that said she was excelling in everything, as always.
Because that’s what she does.
She excels at life.
