Page 30 of No Going Back

The plea hangs there, soft and broken, and for one stupid second my arms twitch like they want to reach for him. I can picture it, his face buried in my neck, the way he always melts when I hold him tight, the little sigh he makes against my skin. My throat closes up.

I swallow hard, forcing the word out. “No.”

“Okay,” he whispers, voice cracking again. “Okay… I’m sorry.”

The door clicks shut behind him, soft, careful, like he’s afraid to make it loud. I deflate under the covers, chest hollow, eyes burning hotter than before. I pull the blanket tighter over my head and pray sleep takes me fast, because this is shit, and I don’t know how to survive it.

11

Remy

I walk back into my bedroom with a little weight finally lifting off my shoulders. Cole’s here, safe, back where he belongs. Wrapped up in his bed, getting some rest. The thought settles something jagged inside me, he’s under the same roof, breathing the same air, even if he’s shut me out. It’s enough for now… it has to be.

I don’t waste time. I start gathering everything of Hannah’s that’s still in here… her clothes draped over the chair, her deodorant on the dresser, the little silver bracelet she always forgets, hair clips scattered on the nightstand. I shove it all into her suitcase without folding anything, zipping it shut with more force than necessary. The wheels squeak as I drag it out into the hallway and park it right by the dorm door. She’s not coming back in here.

Next, the bathroom. I grab the air freshener, citrus, sharp, nothing like her floral perfume, and carry it back to my room. I spray it everywhere, long bursts until the room smells clean and neutral again, like her scent never existed. I hate how desperate it feels, but I need it gone, all of it.

The sheets are next. I strip the bed completely… top sheet, fitted sheet, pillowcases, everything. I hate this chore, always have, tugging the elastic corners free, wrestling the duvet out of its cover, but right now I do it. Fast, angry, rolling the whole pile into a tight ball, and shoving it into the laundry basket in the hall. The mattress is bare and exposed, but it’s mine again. I go to my cupboard, pull out the spare set, plain navy, simple, and clean. Fifteen frustrated minutes later I’ve wrestled the fitted sheet on, snapped the top sheet into place, and stuffed the pillows into fresh cases. It smells like laundry detergent and nothing else.

I want Cole. I want to go back into his room, crawl under the covers, press my face to his neck, and breathe him in until the panic stops clawing at my ribs. I’m restless… can’t stop moving, hands twitching, heart hammering like it’s trying to break free. Every few seconds I glance at his closed door, wondering how long he’ll sleep, wondering if I should wake him in a couple hours or wait until he comes out on his own.

I don’t even want to go to Jeb’s party now. I just want to sit down with Cole, explain everything… how I was ready to end it, how Hannah’s tears caught me off guard, how I closed my eyes and thought of him the whole time, how I never wanted her, not really. How it’s always been him.

I sink back onto the couch, pull the blanket around my shoulders, and lie down, curling up. The fabric still smells faintly of him, from when we fell asleep gaming under it together. I bury my face in it and breathe deep.

Please let us work this out. Please.

My phone buzzes suddenly on the coffee table, sharp and insistent, cutting through the quiet like a knife. I flinch hard, blanket slipping off one shoulder as I sit up fast, the cushions shifting under me. I reach for it before I can second-guess, lifting it close. Unknown number. I frown, exhaling hard through my nose, it’s probably spam. I almost swipe it away to voicemail, thumb hovering, but something prickles at the back of my neck, uneasy.

I hesitate one more second, then answer. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice comes through, warm, lightly accented, Spanish lilt. “Hello, is this Remy?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, speaking.”

“Hi, I’m Rosa, Hannah’s mom’s nurse. Hannah gave me your number in case I can’t get in touch with her.”

My stomach drops. I sit up straighter, blanket slipping to my lap. “Is everything okay?”

Rosa hesitates, just a second, but it’s enough. “Well… her mom is having a bad day and wants to know when Hannah is coming home from her trip.”

I blink. “Her trip?”

The words feel wrong in my mouth. Hannah isn’t on a trip, she’s here, she came back to college. She’s in class right now, catching up on everything she missed.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought her mom was getting better? Uh… sorry, Hannah will be in class now.”

Rosa makes a small, confused noise. “What? No, her mom’s health is declining. Sorry, I’m confused… Hannah said she’d dropped out of college to be with her mom?”

What. I stand up so fast the blanket falls to my feet in a heap. My head swims, light-headed, ears ringing. “What? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Rosa says gently. “She said she wanted to spend some time with you and then come right back.”

I start pacing, three steps to the window, three steps back, hand dragging through my hair hard enough to hurt. “Oh… um, okay. Well, I’ll let her know you called. Thanks.”

I hang up before she can say anything else. Hannah lied… she lied to me. She seemed so sincere. Crying about classes, about her mom, about how overwhelmed she was. She never lies to me… she’s not the type; she’s honest, almost painfully so. So why would she come back suddenly for a short visit, only to plan on leaving again? When did she drop out? Why didn’t she tell me?

My eyes land on her suitcase by the door, still exactly where I left it, standing there like a quiet accusation. I’ve never gone through her stuff before, she knows that. She knows I’d never snoop, never dig through her things without asking. So, if she were hiding something… it would be in there.