13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN - TENDER RECONCILIATION
I couldn’t believe it. I had actually made her cry. I clenched my jaws hard, gritting my teeth to stop myself from running after her, but I couldn’t let myself do that.
What would I tell her?
What explanation could I possibly give her?
I sighed to myself, looking at my bandaged shoulder and remembering when I had jumped to push her out of the way. The very same person I had risked my life for was the same person I had just made cry and run out of my room, and for what?
I glanced down at my laptop and steeled my resolve. It was already too late to stop now, so I might as well just keep going. I sat on my chair, using my good hand to open the laptop, and went to the folder, looking for Ali”s last message.
Then I saw the message”s subject line and clicked on it. To be honest, it was quite hard typing with one hand, but I had no choice.
‘Everything’s almost ready for us. I can’t wait for it to finally happen. I’m still surprised at how long you’ve been able to keep this from Lily. Make sure you delete this after reading.’ — Ali.
I sighed. My fingers danced over the keyboard as I replied. ‘I’ve been thinking about it non-stop for days, and I honestly can’t wait either. And don”t worry - I”ll make sure to delete this message. We can”t risk any leaks. See you soon.’ — Jake.
I closed my laptop, leaning into my chair as I let out a loud sigh. What the fuck was I going to do?
The dull throb in my shoulder slowly started to increase, so I did the next best thing. I popped a few painkillers into my mouth and quickly climbed into my bed, hoping to escape into sleep, even if only for a little while. My altercation with Lily still troubled me, but at this point, I didn’t want to think about it. Deciding that rest was my best ally, I let the weight of exhaustion pull me under.
The painkillers I swallowed should”ve guaranteed me a night without dreams or disturbances. They did, at least, until my stomach decided to throw its own little tantrum. Groaning, I reluctantly peeled myself out of bed. Every movement was a careful negotiation, trying not to jolt my shoulder. The hunger was insistent, gnawing at me, driving me out of the warmth and into the cold kitchen.
It was dark, the kind of dark that seemed to swallow sound, and the kitchen felt cold, almost unwelcoming. I rummaged through the fridge and cabinets. Nothing. My hope of finding something easy to eat dwindled with each empty shelf. “Guess I’m going to have to fix myself a sandwich, then,” I muttered to myself, underestimating the challenge my injured shoulder would pose.
As I tried to slice the bread, the knife slipped—its blade skimming harmlessly off the counter but sending the plate I”d set out crashing to the floor. The sound of breaking ceramic shattered the night”s silence. “Damn it.” I cursed louder than I intended, staring down at the mess.
My attempt to clean up was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. Panic seized me. The last thing I wanted was for Lily to find me like this—struggling over something as stupid as making a sandwich.
Her silhouette appeared in the doorway, the light from the moon casting shadows across her face, but her green eyes were unmistakable. They found mine immediately. The connection was brief before she quickly looked away, taking in the chaos I”d created.
“What happened here?” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it filled the kitchen.
“Just... got hungry. I wanted to make a sandwich, but…” I gestured helplessly with my good arm, “it”s a bit harder than I thought.”
She surveyed the mess once more, her expression unreadable. Her gaze lingered on the broken plate before shifting back to me. Then, with a scoff that seemed more like a defense mechanism than disdain, she moved past me toward the counter.
I stepped aside, watching her gather ingredients with a proficiency that made it clear she”d done this a million times before. Without a word, she made not one but a few sandwiches, stacking them neatly on a plate. She placed them in front of me without a word. Her silence was louder than any argument we”d ever had. As she turned to leave, a sudden urgency overtook me.
“Lily, wait,” I called out, the words catching in my throat.
She didn”t come back, but she paused, turning slightly to acknowledge me. Her eyes met mine again, and I could see the hurt there.
“I…” Words failed me. I wanted to say something. Anything that could bridge the gap and heal the wound. But the words felt like they were miles away, stuck in some part of me that was too tired, too much in pain to reach them. So, I just stood there, holding her gaze, hoping she could read in my eyes the apology I couldn”t voice.
Finally, she nodded, a small, sad acknowledgment of whatever she saw in me, and then she was gone, disappearing back into the shadows of the hallway.
I was left standing there in the quiet kitchen, clutching a plate of sandwiches in my hand that suddenly seemed too heavy, and a heavy pain in my heart.
“Might as well eat, I guess,”I sighed to myself, grabbing a sandwich off the plate and putting it in my mouth.
With each bite, I mulled over how to bridge the gap. How to make things right again. But the words eluded me, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.
Frustration bubbled up as I reached for my phone, a desperate attempt to find a solution. But as I scrolled through my contacts, I realized that Ali”s number wasn”t there. I needed to find a way to fix this.
I hurriedly finished my meal and made my way back to the bedroom. I opened my laptop. My fingers danced across the keyboard as I searched for Ali”s contact. The familiar pang of guilt gnawed at me. I knew what needed to be done.
The next morning dawned with a sense of purpose in the air. I set out early, the cool morning air blowing against my skin. As I slid into my car, Lily”s silhouette caught my eye in the window, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves…
With a firm nod, I pulled out of the driveway, the engine humming beneath me as I pressed forward, each mile bringing me closer and closer to resolution. Eventually, I found myself parked outside a house.
I let out a puff of air and got out of the car, standing on the lawn with my phone pressed to my ear, heart pounding in my chest as I waited for the call to connect. Each ring felt like an eternity as I nervously tapped my foot against the ground in impatience.
“Hello?” Her voice cut through the uncertainty of that moment.
“Ali, it”s me,” I blurted out, relief flooding my veins at the sound of her voice. “I”m outside.”
There was a pause, filled with unspoken questions and doubts. But in that moment, I needed her.
“I”ll be right there,” she replied. “We need to talk.”