CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
GRANT
I ’m halfway through a game of Madden, the apartment quiet except for the muted sounds of the announcers on the screen, when my phone buzzes on the couch cushion beside me.
I’m expecting it to be from Lina before I even look at my phone because of how routine our nights have become, and when the message flashes across my screen, my assumption is proven correct.
LINA
Can I come over?
Our dynamic has completely shifted ever since she started sleeping in my bed on the regular. We’ve become actual friends, and the more we hang out together, the more it feels like I’m not just doing this for my peace of mind, but also because I want to.
The only break we’ve had was during Thanksgiving break, but now it’s November, and the closer finals get, the more Lina needs sleep, and the more I need reassurance that she’s okay.
Usually, I come home from practice, get some homework done, play video games for a bit, and wait for Lina to text me asking to come over for the night. Sometimes we eat dinner together or watch a movie, while other times she comes over late enough for us to go straight to bed.
More recently, it’s been the former because she’s roped me into watching the documentaries she loves in the same way she got me into the Greek Mythology podcast.
Some of them are about different crimes and catastrophes, making it impossible for me not to make “No wonder you can’t sleep” jokes. Others are more informational ones, about history or more Greek mythology.
All of it goes to prove her overwhelming love for consuming knowledge, and there’s something I find so endearing about it.
I text her right back.
ME
Yeah.
ME
Let me finish this game, and I’ll unlock the door.
LINA
I’m already outside.
My forehead creases at the text, not quite understanding until I hear the unfamiliar sound of the camera doorbell ringing. Nobody ever rings the doorbell here, mainly because the door is usually unlocked.
I toss the controller down and jog to the front door, pausing long enough to swipe my hand through my hair before opening the door.
“Couldn’t survive one night without me?” I joke, but when I see her, every trace of smugness instantly dies in my chest.
Lina is standing in the hallway in a too-thin tank top, arms folded tight across her chest, like she’s trying her best to hold herself together. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, but her eyes are worse.
Red-rimmed. Shiny.
I have no idea what this is about, but my chest tightens in a way I can’t stand, and it’s all because of the way she’s looking at me.
Like, if I say one wrong thing, she’s going to crumple into pieces outside my door.
“Lina?” I say, stepping out of the way immediately. “What the hell—are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer. Just ducks her head, walking past me like she can’t get inside fast enough.
The breath leaves my lungs in one slow, burning rush as I shut the door and turn to follow her.
I step closer. “What happened?”
Like usual, the worst possible scenarios play through my brain. Did she go running again? Did something happen?
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and when a tear slips down her cheek, my stomach knots so hard I feel sick.
Without thinking, I reach for her—my hands gentle on her arms, thumbs brushing over her soft skin.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she sags forward like the strength’s finally drained out of her, and I catch her easily, wrapping her up against my chest. Her hands fist into my hoodie like she’s afraid I’ll let go, and the second I feel her shaking, my own heart cracks right down the center.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur into her hair, rocking us slightly without meaning to. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
“I-I—” Goddamn , she can’t even get her words out.
“Did something happen?” I ask, surveying her up and down, looking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head—barely.
Jesus, this is killing me. Like seriously ripping me up from the inside out.
“Have you been to the mall at Christmas time since your mom died?” Her question is barely coherent through the sobs racking her body, but I understand it enough.
“Uh…no,” I say honestly, my hands tightening on her back. “I haven’t.”
She hiccups a breath against me, and it’s the most broken sound I’ve ever heard come out of her.
“I thought I could handle it. It’s been long enough. I thought—God, I thought if I kept moving, kept doing normal things, it’d be fine.” Another tear slips down her cheek, soaking into my hoodie.
“But everything there—every stupid Christmas tree, every carol, every little kid dragging their mom’s hand through the crowd—it just felt like she should’ve been there. She’s supposed to be here. And she’s not. And she’s never going to be again.”
Her words crack open something deep inside me, a place I didn’t even know existed until now. She pulls back enough to look up at me, her eyes swimming.
“I tried to buy a gift for my aunt,” she chokes out.
“I stood there in the stupid watch store for twenty minutes, trying to pick one, and all I could think about was how Mom used to pick out the perfect gifts for everyone. She would’ve known exactly what to get.
And I didn’t even make it to the register before I lost it. ”
I don’t know much of anything about Lina’s mom. She doesn’t talk about her. What I’ve gathered, though, is that they were close.
Lina’s an only child without her dad in the picture. Growing up, she and her mom had each other. That bond was everything, and it was ripped away from her.
“Lina,” I say, her name thick in my throat. I tug her back in, one hand cradling her head, my fingers getting lost in her hair, as she presses her forehead into my chest again.
“I feel so stupid,” she mumbles, her voice cracking all over the place. “Everyone else is living their life. And I’m falling apart in the middle of a freaking jewelry store.”
“You’re not stupid,” I say immediately, firmly, like maybe if I say it hard enough it’ll erase even a piece of the guilt from her. “You loved her— love her—of course shit like that is going to hurt.”
Her arms tighten around me. “I should be better by now. The whole point of me coming back was to get back to my normal life.”
“There’s no such thing,” I promise her. “It’s impossible to love someone that much for that long and expect yourself to ever be okay with the fact that they’re gone.”
It’s advice I should be giving to myself, in all honesty.
We stand there like that for a long time, her breathing shaky against me, my heart beating steady for the both of us.