Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Izzy
I should have canceled. I can barely even look her in the eyes.
I couldn't bring myself to cancel, though—not on Via. She actually asked to get out of the house today. I know how big of a step that is for her, and I refuse to let her down. That’s why I decided to bring her to a new restaurant in New Orleans, Cafe Creole, known for its cultural vibes of the area.
She needed a fresh scenery and to get out of Sugarland for a bit.
I keep staring down at my phone, willing for it to ring. I'm impatiently waiting for the doctor's office to call and let me know if they can get me in for my ultrasound today.
"Iz, are you okay?" Via's voice interrupts my racing thoughts.
"Mhm," I murmur, pulling my attention to her. “Sorry, what was the question?”
"I asked you what the doctor said."
I swallow the lump invading my throat. "It's just a cold. I'll survive," I lie with a forced smile, the one that I've mastered so well.
She nods and looks down at her food, playing with it more than eating it. She's barely been eating lately, and my concern is growing by the day. She's lost so much weight.
"Hey," I say softly, placing a hand over hers. Her eyes dart up to meet mine, and now I'm face-to-face with her sorrow. It radiates in her gaze.
I should say something comforting, sentimental, or encouraging, but I just don't have it in me.
"Eat the fucking sandwich, or I'm flashing my titties to the grandpa two tables over, and you'll be solely responsible for the heart attack it will give him." I take another bite of my food, holding her gaze. Via snorts out a small laugh, and the corners of her mouth curl into a slight smile.
"You wouldn't dare," she whispers as her eyes flash to the old man in the booth down from us, casually sipping his coffee and reading his newspaper.
I raise a challenging eyebrow. "I wouldn't, would I? Keep playing with your food rather than eating it, and you'll find out." I shrug as if I'm uninterested.
Via rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed huff, mixed with a soft chuckle.
Slowly, she begins to eat, and silence falls between us for a bit.
"I've been thinking," she says, breaking the silence after a few minutes have passed.
"Oh, yeah? That could be scary. I'm here for it. Hit me with it."
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing, "I think you're right—"
"Of course I am. I'm always right. Duh... What am I right about this time, exactly?"
My attempt to make her smile fails horribly.
Instead, she frowns, tears rimming her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall.
"I need to get out of here, Iz. It's too late to go to Chicago since I already pulled out, and honestly, art school really doesn't appeal to me anymore.
" She sighs. "I've been thinking of going into nursing.
I want to help people. I want to give others a chance to survive when the odds may be stacked against them. "
I nod, staying silent, giving her the space she needs to process her thoughts and speak freely.
She shakes her head as if clearing a thought from her mind. "I found a school in Arkansas. I know it's a lot to ask, and you still don't know what you want to go for, or if you even want to go to college at all, but—"
"Are late admissions still open? It's already July."
"Yes." She nods her head. "I already spoke to the admissions office."
Silence settles between us for a minute or so.
Via lets out another sigh as her resolve fades. I look over and meet her fragile gaze, seeing more tears forming at the brim.
"I still feel so guilty." She looks away, shifting her gaze to the window and the bustling streets of the downtown city.
"That night, everything changed. If I had just stayed home, they'd still be here.
I'd still have him. Life wasn't perfect, but it damn sure wasn't like this.
" She sniffles, wiping her nose with a napkin.
"I don't know if I'll ever be okay again.
Some days, I think I'm doing fine, and then it hits me.
" Her tears finally fall and turn into a soft sob.
I stand from my place in the booth, walk over to her side, and force her to scoot over and make room for me.
I don't speak, just wrap my arms around her and pull her to me, letting her know I'm here.
My own thoughts begin to swarm and infest my mind.
How the hell will I tell Via that, on the night she lost everything, Jett and I created a life?
Jett.
How will I tell him?
Via speaks again, pulling me from my thoughts. "Most days, I wish I would’ve died with them, Iz. It would’ve been better than only existing. Because what I'm doing right now isn’t living. I don't feel like I deserve to live when they aren't here, and it's all because of my choices."
Feeling the lump in my throat grow, I hold back my own tears that threaten to spill.
I want to assure her that none of this was her fault, but she doesn't need me to tell her how to feel. She needs me to be here to listen to her.
So I do.
"I lost everything, Iz—everything except for you. You're all I have left. Honestly, if it weren't for you, I probably would have given up by now. You keep me afloat. It's a lot to ask, but I can't do this without you."
I nod, processing her words.
Before I can speak, my phone begins to ring on the table. She knows I was expecting a call, but she doesn't know what about, only that it's important. So, without a word, she throws me a quick glance and a subtle nod.
I shoot up from the booth, snatch my phone off the table, and run to the door and step outside on the busy sidewalk. Without looking at the number, I quickly answer.
"H-hello?" I stutter, sniffling and wiping my eyes, answering without looking to see who’s calling.
"You answered." Jett's deep, sultry voice comes through the receiver, and every ounce of my strength dissolves. He pauses, and a short, uncomfortable silence falls between us. "It's ab-about damn time," he slurs.
Is he drunk? It's only noon. Why the hell is he drinking?
"Are you drunk?" I ask softly, too drained for anything else.
"Ha! You pushed me out, ignored my calls and texts for weeks, and now, suddenly, you're concerned about me?"
"Jett—"
"Don't. Maybe I am drunk, but can you fucking blame me? I miss you, and you don't give a shit about me."
"That isn't true."
"The fuck it isn't!" he screams through the receiver. "I need to know... Did you really sleep with other people?" He hiccups. He must be really drunk, but it doesn’t hide the pain. It’s even clearer when he chokes out, "Did you?"
"Of course I fucking did, Jett,” I snap. “Sleeping around is what I do, right? That was our agreement. We were never supposed to be anything," I lie. I fucking lie.
Why do I keep up the charade? Why can't I just tell him the truth? Why can't I just tell him I haven't been able to think, look, or even try to be with anyone else since my feelings for him have evolved?
"You hurt me. You fucking hurt me, Iz. I didn't want to fall in love with you." He sniffles, and I can tell that he's crying. My already shattered heart crumbles even more. "I knew you were fucking dangerous. Yet, here I am."
His slurring is getting worse, and my concern is growing every second.
He continues, "You know, after falling for you, I had these recurring dreams of marrying you someday and building a life with you.
" He scoffs, as if disgusted by his own thoughts.
"I dreamed of our kids running around on the ranch, and us chasing after them.
I'd wake up smiling. It was everything I never knew I could want.
But I did. I fucking wanted it with you, Beauty.
Now, it's become my fucking nightmare that haunts me.
It taunts me, reminding me of everything you took from me.
Took from us. You did that, Iz. You turned a dream into a nightmare because you're too scared of anything fucking real to give a damn about anyone but yourself. "
“Jett, I…” My voice trails off, not knowing what to say.
“You, what?”
"I never meant to hurt you," I force out, the words barely a whisper as the tears of honesty fall from my eyes without hesitation.
Before he can speak another word, I hang up, power my phone off, and tuck it away.
I sink down to the cement as the world around me fades to nothing.
In this very moment, I don’t even want to exist.
I’m so. Fucking. Tired.
It’s just then, through my sobs, that I hear a guy's voice call out from above me: “Hey, are you okay?”
Fuck my life.