Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Monroe
I’ve been holed up in my childhood bedroom for almost two weeks.
The girls have come and gone, keeping me company on days I’m not locked up in my room rotting away.
Raven’s been a constant presence, bringing me groceries, making tea, fussing over me the way only Raven can.
She’s the one with the most free time on her hands, so she’s the one responsible for babysitting, which is all this is.
Though I’m grateful, she hasn’t pushed, or asked what I’m going to do or when I’m going back. Or if I even want to. I’ve almost called him countless times, but stop myself mainly because I’m too embarrassed to admit I overreacted.
Monty’s checked in too, but not when Raven’s around. He never stays long, just stands in the doorway with his weathered ball cap in his hands, his eyes full of something he doesn't have words to say.
Raven’s set to move in a few days, so I know my time here is limited. I need to face this before things get worse.
Regardless, I’m grateful they've been here but hate that I needed them.
Every morning, I told myself I’d go back. That I’d call Jase, tell him I just needed space, tell him I still love him. Yet every time I pictured his face—the hurt, the desperation, the way his voice broke when he said he never wanted her—I couldn't do it.
Because I believed him then, and it still broke me, proving I feel deeper than I ever imagined I would.
I’ve always been so reluctant to be in a relationship.
I’ve got issues, trauma that no one deserves to carry, but most of all I’m co-dependent beneath all the tough girl, ‘I don’t need anyone’ act I put on.
I fear being abandoned and not being loved.
I ache to be cared for and seen. All of it adds up to a shit ton of baggage Jase is too tolerant to carry the weight of.
Three days ago I realized I had to move forward, and accept that Jase didn’t mean to hurt me. His betrayal was my coping mechanism for the severity of the situation at hand. I was scared, helpless, and created this entire scenario in my head in order to keep the walls Jase had broken down in place.
I’m exhausted in a way sleep can’t fix, not that I’m getting any. My body aches, my head is pounding, and waves of nausea keep rolling through me. I told myself it’s only stress, that I just need to rest, but since yesterday afternoon, I can barely keep anything down.
Raven’s worried, but I’ve ignored her pleas to get checked out. “Monroe, you’re pale,” she says, kneeling by my bedside. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, even as my stomach twists again.
“You’re not.” She stands and crosses the room, her voice sharper now as she grabs her phone. “I’m calling Monty.”
I’m fading in and out of sleep and in a matter of minutes, Monty’s here, crouching beside me, his big hand gentle on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, this isn’t nothing. You’re burning up.”
I try to argue, but the words slip away when another wave of dizziness hits and the room tilts sideways.
When I open my eyes again, I’m on the couch downstairs with a cool wet cloth on my forehead. Raven paces around as Monty whispers into his phone by the door.
“You need to come,” Monty says, low and urgent. “Now. She’s here. She’s been here the whole time, and she’s not okay, Jase.”
My breath catches in my throat. Even through the haze of fear, the fever and tears, my heart lurches at the sound of his name.