Page 131 of Prickly Pair
An uneasy silence settled between us. I felt his eyes on me, following me as I started cleaning up his room.
I half expected the front door to be locked when I reached for it, but it wasn’t.
I kicked off my shoes, locked the door, composed myself, then headed back to his bedroom.
I didn’t really have a plan coming over here. Seeing how worried everyone was about him had alarmed me but seeing it firsthand was different. Had someone even stopped by? Where the fuck was his family? I knew they were busy, butwhat about Austin?
Evie and Matthew should have been here too.
But it was just me.
Austin was still under the blankets, his expression unreadable. “Why are you here?” he whispered.
I threw myself onto the bed right next to him, and once again, he just let me. So, I kicked back the blankets and got under them, sprawling out.
“You could make fun of me,” Austin said. “That would be better than picking up after me.”
“It wouldn’t be.” I turned over onto my side, staring at the back of his head. “You haven’t punched me yet, so I know something is really wrong.”
“I can’t move,” he murmured.
I sucked in a breath. “Like . . . Should I be calling you an ambulance? Or Matthew? Do you need a doctor?”
“No. It’s not physical. Well, I guess it is. I don’t know. You can go.”
“I’m not going.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“Well no one else is coming right now. You’re stuck with me, Whynot, whether you want me or not.”
His shoulders stiffened. I inched closer to him until his body fit against mine, and slowly slid my arm around his waist. I settled my head on the pillow next to his. “When’s the last time you showered?” I murmured.
“I don’t know.”
“I can wash you off.”
He bucked his hips back angrily, but I didn’t let him go. “You don’t need to be here. Just gloat over my misery and go.”
“I’m not going.” I tightened my hold on him. “What’s going on?” I murmured against his neck.
His entire body stiffened, and he was silent. I didn’t say anything else, but the silence stretched on until one by one, his muscles started to loosen. The softest sniffle came from him, but I just gave him a gentle squeeze.
“I miss my dad,” he whispered.
Fuck.I closed my eyes as my eyes started to burn. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I miss him so much. He had all the answers, and I’ve got none. He was always loved, and I’ve tried to be like him. I’ve tried to take care of folks like he did but all I do is fuck up and ithurts. It hurts. It hurts.” His voice ebbed into the softest whisper. “And I don’t know what happened. Couple days ago I woke up and I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t make myself move. I’ve been in bed, to the bathroom, and to the front door to retrieve food and that’s about it. My muscles won’t work. I keep falling asleep. I have so many missed calls and emails and they keep piling up. And I hate . . . I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate how everything keeps unraveling no matter how hard I try to keep it together, and I’m just . . . I’m tired. And I hurt. And I’m alone.”
I pressed my lips against his shoulder. He went rigid, then sighed.
“You’re burned out,” I said. “That’s what it feels like. And it sounds like you never let yourself grieve your dad.”
“I have, though. I went to his funeral. The last few years, we’ve gone to his grave and talked about him. Shared memories. The anniversary of his death is coming up next month.”
“Did you share any memories, or did everyone else do the talking?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
