Chapter 38 #2
Summer’s eyes shine with tears, and I brush a wayward curl from her brow. “I think she’s laughing with us, even if we can’t hear it,” I say more quietly.
“I think so too.” She snuggles close, resting her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, not because she needs holding, but because I do.
She feels so small against me and too fragile for everything we’ve been through, and yet she’s stronger than I give her credit for.
Maybe she’s even stronger than me in many ways.
Several peaceful minutes pass as we lose ourselves in memories and let those better times carry us far from reality, not wishing to break this fragile moment of seeking strength in each other.
Summer’s voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “I never thought I’d learn to love the sound of the heart rate monitor.”
“Me neither.”
“I used to hate the sound in the beginning,” she goes on. “At first, I was scared. Then I felt angry every time I had to sit here and listen to it.”
“I felt the same way.”
“It all just seemed so unfair.”
That’s because it is.
I run my fingers through her blonde curls, listening.
A soft sigh leaves her. “I felt so bad at times because I used to wish it were Dad in that bed. Mom didn’t deserve it. Dad was never around, and when he showed up, he was always drunk. But then I’d feel even worse for thinking that way.”
I wish I could have done more to protect her. Wish Mom had done more…
“You never have to be ashamed of your emotions,” I reply as I push those thoughts aside. Mom wasn’t perfect, but she loved our dad and stayed longer than she should have because she didn’t want to give up on him.
Summer pinches my sleeping bag, lost in thoughts. “It’s just so…”
“Unfair?”
“Cruel.”
Yes, that too.
We fall silent again, my fingers gently moving through her hair. But then my thoughts stop when Summer says, “You should reach out to Kane.”
My fingers freeze.
“He loves you,” she continues. “And I know you love him.”
My heart skips a beat as a soft rush of emotions moves through my chest. I resume stroking her hair, and my fingers are trembling slightly as they catch on the strands. What do I even say? She’s right. I love him, but I can’t be what he needs right now.
Summer shifts onto her side. “What are you doing?”
My brows knit. “What do you mean?”
“You’re pushing him away again like you always do. Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it?” she questions. “Or are you scared?”
I flop onto my back, the sleeping bag rustling as I get comfortable, fluffing my pillow. As usual, Summer sees right through me.
But as for myself, I’m not ready for this conversation. Granted, we have a lot to catch up on, and I can tell from the way she looks at me that she won’t let it go, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to open up my wrist and spill my messy emotions just yet.
“You’re scared,” she says when I don’t respond. “What are you so scared of?”
Does there need to be a reason? Can I just be scared, and that be enough?
“I’ll tell you what you’re afraid of. You’re terrified of losing him, that’s what. So you push him away because it feels safer that way. Why is that? Because it’s your choice. You choose pain.”
“Stop,” I whisper brokenly. Why would I choose to hurt myself?
She goes on, ignoring me. “Do you even understand your motivations? Or why you do it? I’ve known you my whole life, Jessica. Long enough to know you won’t let yourself be happy. You never have. You only feel like you’re worth something when you sacrifice yourself for others.”
My heart beats so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free. Summer knows she’s hurting me a little more with each sliver of truth I have to face.
“You let yourself be happy for a while. But then, when you start feeling too much, you run. Mom is just another excuse you use to build your walls higher.”
I steel my jaw as I sit up. “Don’t bring Mom into this.”
But she’s undeterred.
“Mom would want me to have this conversation with you.” Summer’s voice breaks as she continues, “Because she no longer has a voice to tell you herself.”
“Dammit.” I draw my knees up to my chest and wipe away my tears, sniffling like a little kid with a bleeding cut.
“I can’t be with him. Don’t you get it? I want to.
” Now it’s my voice that cracks. “I want to be with him more than anything, but look around you. Our mom is in that bed, Dad’s in rehab, Chris is god-fucking-knows where. ”
We stare at each other, blanketed by a million artificial stars circling the roof of our makeshift fort.
“And what about Kane?” I ask.
She says nothing, and I wipe my cheeks again, feeling broken and lost.
“His mom tried to hurt herself, and now she’s in an institute. And his dad…” I press the heels of my palms over my eyes. “I don’t even know anymore…”
Summer pulls me into a hug, and I let her hold me. I’m usually the strong one who comforts her. But now, as she kisses my hair and whispers soothing words, I realize I need her just as much, if not more. Sometimes I need to be held too, and for someone to tell me we’ll get through this.
“Call him,” she says after rocking me like a child for a while. “You might think you do this because you want to be here for Mom, but she’d say the same thing.”
“You think?” I sniffle, untangling myself.
Summer smiles softly as I settle back into the sleeping bag. “Mom would tell you it’s good to be scared.”
“I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
God… I’m twenty years old and I sound like a frightened little girl.
Summer lies down beside me and slips her hand into mine. “I don’t want to be scared anymore either,” she says. “But we don’t get a choice.”
We put our palms together and align our fingers. Our hands are almost the same size. My fingers are slightly longer.
“Love is the scariest thing of all,” Summer murmurs as she gazes at our hands.
“What about you and Malice?”
I’ve been dying to talk to her about it forever, but it’s never the right time.
A secretive little smile peeks out like a ray of sunshine behind clouds. “That’s a story for another day.”
Laughing, I shove her shoulder. “Don’t hold back on me.”
“What if I said I’m scared too?”
My smile softens, and I reach for her hand again, entwining our fingers. “Then we’ll be scared together.”