Chapter 11
“Connor’s been avoiding me.”
After the vibrator incident, I thought we’d move on like nothing happened. Like we always do when things between us cross over the “friends only” line. Like the kiss that never happened.
“There’s no way. That boy’s obsessed with you. He’s followed you around like a puppy since day one,” Olivia scoffs.
“He’s been picking up a lot of overtime or hanging out with CJ, and when he’s home, he says he’s too tired to talk, or eat with me, or watch TV together. We’ve never been this distant.”
My stomach cramps from missing him constantly.
The stress from finals and Connor drifting away from me has made eating nearly impossible. I know I’m hurting myself, but I can’t stop it. Connor or Izzy pull me back when I drift too far—but neither of them have time for me anymore.
I don’t begrudge my sister her happiness. She deserves every success she’s finding with Reid and their business ventures. I’m so proud of her. But it’s like she grew up without me. I hardly see her anymore, our texts are fewer and farther between, and she rarely calls.
I’m better at hiding my struggles from Olivia because she’s so talkative. Not that she’s self-absorbed or unobservant, but it’s easier to distract her with a new topic of conversation or question about her life.
“I don’t buy it, but for argument’s sake—fuck him.
Izzy’s still hoping you’ll move to the ranch.
I’ve been busier now that I’m full-time at Dad’s company, but whenever I’m able, I’m at the ranch with Maisey.
Come join our happy little party. It smells like hay and horseshit, but we’ll never avoid you.
” I huff a laugh. Olivia’s never been one to mince words.
“I’ve been living with Connor a little over a month, and things between us are the most uncomfortable they’ve ever been. Maybe this was a mistake.”
“See! It’s the perfect solution. Get ready and come to the stables with me for some horse therapy and bestie time. Izzy should be getting home from work soon. Let’s all do dinner or something,” she offers.
I have nothing better to do than sit here and jump at every noise hoping it’s Connor coming through the door.
“Fine. You win. I have a few things to do before I leave so I’ll meet you there, okay?
Livy plants a smooch on my cheek and when the door clicks behind her, I flop face down onto the sofa and caterwaul into the cushions. Why can’t my life be easy?
I can’t go back to the trailer. Mom’s already been hitting me up for money. I caved and gave her some because I feel so guilty for leaving her—and because I have no backbone.
I’ll never hear the end of it if anyone finds out. Connor said I enable my mom. Maybe I do. But I can’t shake the nagging obligation to help her, especially when no one else will.
Left alone with my diseased thoughts, endless study material for exams that will determine my internship placement, and lack of sleep, I’m a wreck.
My empty stomach burns, but I can’t bring myself to eat.
Food’s never felt safe. Because food was scarce, it was safer to be hungry than risk eating something that went bad.
When I was eight or nine, my appendix burst, and the surgery left me with a large, jagged purple scar on my lower abdomen, and I began to fixate on the way my body looked.
Mom was never maternal, but after our dad “went out for milk” and never came back, she became cruel. She threw insults at us like darts at a target full of old holes. Izzy always brushed it off, but I absorbed every word.
Now that Izzy and Olivia are back, I was doing better for a while. Eating like a normal person. Laughing more. But lately…things are unraveling again. And when everything else spins out, my eating habits are the first to crash.
Shame and self-loathing cast a poisoned film over my rational thinking. Everything’s sticky and heavy, compounded by stress and loneliness.
Amidst my spiral, I tidy the apartment, run the dishwasher, and pack an overnight bag.
I text Connor letting him know I’m staying the night with Izzy and not to wait up for me. He reads my message, and the three dots bounce on the screen before they disappear.
His lack of a response back hurts worse than it should.
I’m not good enough for him. I never have been. It’s not his fault he grew up in a healthy household while I grew up in a booze-soaked tin can. I should be counting my blessings he entertains my presence at all, let alone see me as a potential partner.
No. Connor doesn’t want me like that.
He never has, and he never will.