Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
avery
NOW
I miss you, I’m sorry – Gracie Abrams
“Honestly whoever said this was a romcom, should really get the book thrown at them,” Morgan moans as we walk out of the theater. She tosses her empty gummy straw wrappers and continues to munch on her extra-large popcorn that her and Grayson split.
Any mention of romance has my mind swirling with one thing only—a dark-haired man with eyes that stayed locked on mine.
Marcus let it slip he was at their place and explained his upheaval over the guitar string. It made me snicker to think of how frustrated he must be, but there’s also something else layered under there.
Sadness. Hurt.
I’ve always been the first person Kane would tell everything to. Despite knowing I’m not anymore, I can’t stop my traitorous heart from wanting to check my messages, hoping he’s texted to tell me about it. We’d laugh about how absurd it is, and he’d wonder who could’ve taken it, knowing it was me.
I shake my head clear as we head home, Marcus and Grayson trailing after Morgan and me then setting themselves up in the living room.
My heart pangs at the thought of one missing person that should be here but slowly the banter between Morgan and Marcus distracts me enough that my shoulders loosen a bit.
I feel myself relaxing for the first time in a couple weeks.
The exhaustion of the last few weeks seems to be finally hitting me as my eyes start to droop.
Laughter fills the room, and the TV blares from the seventh round of Mario Kart, when I decide it’s time for me to look after myself.
I can’t keep going like this—the depression has been clinging to my skin, making every day feel ten times harder.
I grab my phone and request a therapy appointment, knowing I cannot keep this self-destructive pattern of working so hard I have no time to think. This is the first break I’ve allowed myself in two weeks and it has my body crashing.
I needed a night like tonight—just time spent with my best friends, my chosen family.
It helps dull the pain I’ve been in over the past few weeks.
The empty space is still there, all of us aware of who we’re missing, but it’s less than it has been lately.
It’s nice to have moments like these, where I don’t feel like I might be crushed under the weight of the sadness of missing him.
“C’mon Ave, it’s your turn. I’ve had enough of losing to Marcus for the night,” Morgan says as she flings the remote in my lap. Her blonde curls bounce as she gets up and walks into her room.
Marcus laughs from his seat next to me, his big hand covering my knee and giving it a squeeze. The comfort of it makes my eyes get all watery. He looks at me with some sort of understanding. “Yeah Ave, let’s go. I could use someone that offers some real competition.”
A loud scoff follows from the area Morgan ran off to. A giggle slips out of my mouth at their antics.
From his spot on the floor, Grayson asks, “How is the shelter, Ave? Have you had any new dogs this week?” His demeanor is quiet and steady, helping to settle me. He’s such a peaceful force to be around, always there as a shoulder to lean on.
Marcus started bringing Grayson around sophomore year, and he immediately blended into our little family.
As the complete opposite to Marcus’s chaos, he brings calm to this group.
We haven’t spent as much time together one-on-one as I have with the others, but I know that if I ever need anything, Grayson will be there without a moment of hesitation.
The week of the breakup, he alternated between sleeping on my couch and Kane’s, in case either of us needed him.
“It’s been good,” I reply. “We’ve had several, unfortunately.
This time of year is always hard, with people dropping off puppies they got as gifts without realizing they actually have to take care of them.
We have one, Silver, who’s about to have puppies, and she is just the sweetest thing.
I wish so badly I could bring her home.” I’m wistful as I think about Silver, something about her calls to me.
Her eyes hold so much, the deep gray still filled with hope, even after everything she’s been through.
I’m in awe of how willingly she trusted me, especially knowing she’s faced so much abuse and suffering throughout her life.
It never gets easier taking in a dog like Silver. You almost can’t imagine giving them up again, but you know you have to because there are always more dogs to look after.
I wish my life wasn’t such a mess right now so I could bring one home. It’s always been my dream to have a lot of animals at home—Kane and a bunch of dogs were all I needed. But that’s why it’s called a dream.
I force myself out of that fairytale, focusing back on Grayson. He gives me a sad smile, like he knows exactly where my mind drifted.
“I would love to come by sometime,” Grayson says. “I’ve actually been thinking about maybe adopting a dog. I’ve always wanted one, and it might be nice to have something to come home to.” He scratches the back of his neck, a flush filling his cheeks as if he’s embarrassed.
“Of course!” I reply excitedly. “You should come by tomorrow. I would love to show you around. We have a lot of animals right now. We’re actually hosting a fundraiser in a month—Sharlene wants to go all out and do a fancy gala to try to bring in some extra funds.
Dinner would be included in the ticket price, and we’re hoping to get some physical donations from local businesses so we can have an auction. ”
A broad smile spreads across my face as I think of all the plans that have been slowly coming together. This gala is something we just came up with, and it’s given me something fun to work on at the end of each day. The amount of support we already have from the community is astounding.
“Well, sign me up for a plate, Ave. I would love to come,” Grayson replies.
Morgan walks back into the room, dramatically stomping her feet before stopping in front of me and bracing her hands on her hips.
“Hey, what about me? I want to come too! Put my parents and me down, and I’ll make sure their calendars are free that night.
” She squeezes in next to me on the couch, practically forcing me into both her and Marcus’s laps.
“Why wasn’t I invited?” Marcus pouts, getting up from the too-small sofa and moving to sit in the reading chair closer to the TV.
“It’s a gala, Marcus,” Morgan states, rolling her eyes. “You’d have to actually dress up and act like a man, which is impossible for you.”
“Oh, I can show you just how much of a man I am, since you’re still doubting me,” Marcus quips with a wink, hands moving to his belt as he stands again.
“Dear god, Marcus, do not drop your pants right now!” Morgan shouts as she rises from her seat. Her arms are crossed over her chest, fire burning in her gaze as she stares at Marcus. Grayson and I share a look, both of us fighting back a laugh.
Marcus mirrors Morgan, his laugh cocky as he adds, “You keep testing me, sweetheart. Part of me is starting to think you actually want to see what I’m working with.”
“Please,” Morgan scoffs. “As if I want to catch any diseases you’re carrying around. You should come with a warning label.” She retakes her seat, turning to face the TV. Her stare remains furious, but the red flush in her cheeks suggests she’s anything but.
“All right, children,” I start. “Please, Marcus, sit down. No one here wants to see your dick. Can we please just play the game? I want to see how many races I have to win before Marcus starts to cry.”
I lean down and grab the controller off the coffee table before I sit back on the couch and watch as we all play the game, letting the sounds of my friends bickering and bantering keep the sadness at bay for just a little bit longer.
“And how does that make you feel?” Susan asks from her warm brown chair, writing something down in her notebook after the joke I just made. I hope she plans on using it later—I’m pulling out all my best material today.
“You know, if you don’t start laughing at my jokes, I’m going to start taking it personally,” I deflect, laughing.
It was silly of me to think I could just drop the Kane bomb and move on without her questioning it.
I twirl my fingers in my lap, my palms beginning to sweat as the itch I felt in my spine when I first walked in here returns.
I glance around Susan’s office to the crisp beige walls, lightly decorated in a modern boho style, with warm browns and rustic orange accents. The carpet is plush under my feet, with a long coffee table separating me from Susan, where she sits in her preferred chair.
I grab the ruffled orange pillow from my side and place it on my lap, like a shield that can somehow block the emotions threatening to spill out of me.
When I look back up at Susan, her expression is unchanged as she waits for me to answer her question.
“Shitty, Susan. Really shitty,” I finally admit, clearing my throat to prevent the tears that threaten. “I just wanted someone to fight for me for once, and he didn’t.”
“Have you two talked since the breakup?”
“No, and he hasn’t tried,” I reply.
“Have you?”
“No,” I reply honestly, then add, “And why should I? Why does it have to be me? I asked him for weeks what was wrong, and he always said nothing. But I know him. I spent four years dealing with him pushing me away for days or weeks at a time, only to pull me close again right after. He’d insist everything was fine, that he didn’t want to talk, and I’d give him his space until he was ready, and he always came back.
But I needed him. I was already worried about our future, and I needed his reassurance that everything would be okay.
That it would work out. But he couldn’t give me that. ”
The words spill out of me before I can stop them, and so do a few stray tears. I brush them away quickly as Susan summarizes, “So you ran away before he could hurt you.”