Page 163 of Tell Me I'm Enough

I can’t stop my tears, though.

“Okay,” she says, trying to be calm even when I can hear the emotions she’s holding back. “Okay. We’re gonna find her.”

“What if she’s already—” I can’t say it. I can’t even think about the possibility of a world without my best friend in it.

Lani grabs my shoulders—hard enough to get my attention. “Don’t.”

I shake my head, eyes stinging. “This is my fault. I fought with her.”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

“It does matter!” I shout. My voice hurts from how raw it feels. “We’ve been fighting so much lately. I pushed her, and she left! I thought she was just being dramatic, and would come back, and I didn’t—I didn’t—”

“You couldn’t have known,” Lani says, but she’s crying now too, the strength leaking out from the corners of her eyes. “You couldn’t have known.”

But I could have.

Ishouldhave.

I’vealwaysknown.

Lydia disappearing isn’t new. Lydia hurting herself isn’t new. Lydia acting like life is something she’s tired of having to do isn’t new.

And I’ve been so self-absorbed lately…

Ishouldhave known.

I call her again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Again.

I cry until I’m gagging on air, having nothing left in me but the pain.

“Where would she go? Where the fuck do we even look?”

Lani’s brain is already moving faster than mine as she yanks on her hoodie and shoves her feet into her shoes by the door. “Keys. Charge—”

“I don’t care about a charger, Lani!”

“You will when your phone dies,” she snaps, and the sharpness steadies me for a second, because Lani doesn’t snap at you unless things are serious.

She throws a charger in my bag for me. Like I’m a child, like I can’t function, like she has to be my nervous system right now.

And she does.

Because I can’t handle any of this.

We’re halfway to the door when my phone rings and Lydia’s name flashes on my screen.

For one desperate second, I feel hope so violently inside me it almost makes me sick.

“She’s calling,” I choke out.