Page 64 of Running Home to You
“I can’t.” Kate pulled at the locked door handle. “I can’t breathe.”
“Hold on.”
“I can’t breathe! Just let me out!”
“Wait!”
She yanked at the door and Abby swerved to the side of the road before Kate hurled herself out. Abby bounded after her, chasing her down the snowy shoulder.
“Kate! Just stop!” Abby caught her after fifty yards, seized her arm, and refused to let her trek further.
“Let go!”
“No!” Abby forced her to turn.
Kate released a feeble whimper and collapsed into her. Abby held her up in the snow, Jill’s headlights and the stars the only twinkle in nothingness. She hushed Kate as she moaned into her chest. When her wailing subsided, she drew back. She didn’t look like the Kate that Abby knew, staring off, damaged by something she couldn’t protect her from.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
Kate shook her head. “No.”
Abby leaned in to kiss her forehead, but Kate turned away. They were the only people on the road, but Abby swore a truck plowed into her at the subtle pivot. When they returned to the car, Kate curled up in the passenger seat, rested her head on the window, and sniveled.
Kate slept on the journey back to Insley, and while they were right next to each other, while Kate was safe, Abby had never felt further from her. She relentlessly considered her part in Kate’s torment, which at least guarded against drowsiness on the drive. But as Abby passed hours and miles on the dark highway, she arrived at the same bitter conclusion each time. She should’ve left Kate alone. Should’ve never leaned on her in the first place.
They reached the blue house just before two in the morning. While exhausted, Abby watched Kate for a few stolen seconds. The same way she did during road games when she couldn’t sleep and required an undisturbed look—an assurance that she existed in the world. Now though, the sight of Kate’s swollen eyes, frowning even in slumber, shattered her.
Abby swept the hair off Kate’s cheek. “Hey,” she said.
She blinked awake and shifted to see where they were. “You drove all the way back?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.” Kate’s gaze softened, less accusatory than before, but still wary.
“I wouldn’t leave you.”
“I know.”
She helped Kate carry her bags in. The house was as frigid as outside after being empty for two weeks. Kate flipped on the small heater in her bedroom and rubbed her hands together.
“I’m going to try to sleep,” she said. “You should too. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
Abby nodded. “You’re good here?”
“Yeah. I think I just need some time by myself. But thank you. For everything.”
She lingered in the doorway while her stomach twisted into itself. “Is this my fault?”
“No. I just—” Kate shook her head, the tears restarting. “I just can’t. I hope you won’t hate me for it.”
“Of course not,” Abby whispered. She resisted reaching out to touch her. Instead, they said a staid good night.
She descended the stairs, so tired that dark spots clouded her vision. Rather than risk crashing on the way home, Abby flopped to the couch and shut her eyes, sickened by the certainty that nothing would ever be the same.
Another Letter
Mick and Jill piled onto Kate’s bed the morning after she left Deer Park. Jill shoved coffee into her hands and Mick wrapped an arm around her as she sat up.
