In Her Wake (Ten Tiny Breaths 0.5)(12)

I don’t even recognize the room.

Sasha has been erased. I’m not sure if I have a right to be upset by this, but I am. I bite my tongue against the urge to spew accusations that would be both hurtful and untrue.

Susan opens up the closet and points to a sizeable cardboard box with my name scrawled in black marker on the side. “I was cleaning out his room and I thought these things should go to you. You know . . .” Her lips press together in a tight smile. “A way to remember your friendship. You meant everything to him, Cole.”

I know her words are intended to be kind, but she might as well have driven a railroad tie into my throat. Forgetting our friendship will never be a problem for me.

I can’t manage a response besides, “Thanks.”

“It’s heavy. If you need Cyril to carry it over for you, I can—”

“No, I’m good.” I’m moving fast, diving down to wrap my fingers around the base of the box and lifting. Because, suddenly, I just want to get the hell out of here.

I step into the hallway, box loaded in my arms, and find Madison in the doorway of her room. Now I remember why I came here in the first place. “Hey, Mads.”

“Hey.” She dips her head to the side, her eyes meeting her mom’s in a silent exchange.

“Well, the open house starts in two hours. I should go and get those cookies in the oven. I read that prospective buyers like that sort of thing.” Susan gives my arm one more rub before quietly trailing down the hall.

I make my way into Madison’s room, also freshly painted but not as drastically changed. There are still the same floral sheets that she had on that very bed the night she gave me her virginity three years ago.

Madison’s throat bobs with a hard swallow as she pushes the door closed behind her. “I didn’t mean—”

I cut her off. “I’m sorry about what I said.” I’m sorry about so much more. Especially, what I’m about to do. My weak arm is starting to ache with the weight of the box. I set it down on the bed and then take a seat next to it. “I know you miss him and you’re hurting. Just as much as I am.” I rest my elbows onto my knees and lean forward, dipping my head down to stare at the wood grain in the floor, so I don’t have to face her with my next words. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get my shit together, Mads. I’m only going to drag you down with me while I figure it out.”

Soft footfalls approach and she leans in. Her stomach presses against my head and soothing fingertips begin sliding along the back of my neck. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s just . . . it’s so hard to see you like this. I don’t know what to do or say. I don’t know how to make it better.”

“That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” I swallow the bile rising as I reach up to take her hands in mine. I lift my head and tip it back to meet her gaze. Those eyes. Dammit. I’ve always thought they were beautiful, and yet now they haunt me. “We should be there for each other through this. But I’m not here for you. I can’t be here for you. Not right now.”

Her bottom lip starts to wobble and a watery film forms over her eyes. She’s trying her hardest not to cry. Just like when she was twelve and she tripped on the sidewalk and scraped her knee so badly, she still has a scar from the fall. She admitted years later, after we started dating, that she didn’t want me to see her cry because it would remind me that she was just Sasha’s dumb little sister. The one who’d had a secret crush on me since she was seven years old.

“What are you saying?”

I pull her tiny, rigid frame into my lap so I can hold her tight. I’ve known this girl all my life. I’ve been in love with her for the better part of four years. I turned down countless “opportunities” in college for her. I’ve thought about our future—marriage, kids, the house. Right down to the cat and dog who would fight at first but eventually learn to cohabitate.

I always said I’d kill anyone who hurt her.

I guess that’s what I’m doing now. It definitely feels like another nail in the coffin I climbed into three months ago.

It’s been a slow, painful death.

“That I want you to head back to Washington and focus on you and only you. And . . . if you find someone who can be there for you, and who you can lean on, then,” I say, though just the idea of her with someone else makes me nauseous, “ . . . I’ll be happy for you.”

“Are you—” She chokes down a sob. “Are up breaking up with me?”

“You’ve only ever been with me and I don’t want you to regret that. To feel trapped with me because of what happened.” I say it as softly as I can. “I’m letting you go, Mads.”

Her jaw drops as tears begin to roll. “No. No . . . I didn’t mean it. I was just upset. We can work through this.” She twists her body and finds my cheeks with her hands, closing her mouth over mine, her salty tears coating my lips.

I’ve already made up my mind. Still, how do you pull away from someone you love this much when you know it’s probably the last kiss you’ll ever share? And when it deepens, and one of her hands slides under my shirt, I know that I don’t have a choice. Open house or not, I’m tempted to have just one more time with Madison in this bed, for old times’ sake. But then I’ll chicken out.