Losing Hope (Hopeless #2)(58)

I c**k my head. “Why do you seem pissed off by this?”

He rolls his head. “Seriously?” He stalks toward me and bends forward, placing his hands on either side of my chair. “Because you’re being a pu**y. P-U-S-S-Y.” He lets go of my chair and backs up. “Jesus, Holder. I was actually feeling sorry for you. Suck it up, man. Go to her house and f**king kiss her already and allow yourself to be happy for once.”

He drops down onto the bed and grabs his controller. Breckin smiles a tight-lipped smile and shrugs. “I don’t really like your friend, but he does make a good point. I still don’t understand why you got so mad at her and walked away, but the only way to make it up to her is to not stay away.” He turns back toward the TV and I’m staring at both of them, completely speechless.

They make it sound so simple. They make it sound so easy, like her whole life isn’t hanging in the balance. They don’t know what the f**k they’re talking about.

“Take me home,” I say to Daniel. I don’t want to be here anymore. I walk out of Breckin’s bedroom and make my way back to Daniel’s car.

Chapter Thirty-two

Les,

Everyone likes to have an opinion, don’t they? Daniel and Breckin have no clue what I’ve been through. What either of us has been through.

Fuck it. I don’t even feel like telling you about it.

I close the notebook and stare at it. Why the hell do I even write in it? Why the hell do I bother when she’s f**king dead? I throw the notebook across the room and it hits the wall and falls to the floor. I throw the pen at the notebook and then grab my pillow from behind my head and throw it, too.

“Dammit,” I groan, frustrated. I’m pissed that Daniel thinks my life is so simple. I’m pissed that Breckin still thinks I should just apologize to her, like that would make it all okay. I’m pissed that I’m still writing to Les even though she’s dead.. She can’t read it. She’ll never read it. I’m just putting all the shit I’m living through down on paper for no reason other than the fact that there isn’t a single goddamned person in the world right now that I can talk to.

I lie down, then get pissed again and punch my bed because my damn pillow is all the way across the room. I stand up and walk to the pillow, snatching it up. I look down at the notebook beneath it, spread open on the floor.

The pillow falls out of my hand.

My knees fall to the floor.

My hands clench the notebook that has flipped open to the very last page.

I frantically flip through the pages covered in Les’s handwriting until I find where the words begin. As soon as I see the first words written on top of the page, my heart comes to a screeching halt.

Dear Holder,

If you’re reading this, I’m so, so sor

I slam the notebook shut and throw it across the room.

She wrote me a letter?

A f**king suicide letter?

I can’t breathe. Oh, God, I can’t breathe. I pull myself up and jerk open my window, then stick my head out. I take a deep breath and it’s not enough air. There isn’t enough air and I can’t breathe. I shut the window and run to my bedroom door. I swing it open and rush down the stairs, taking them several at a time. I pass by my mother and her eyes grow wide, seeing me in such a hurry.

“Holder, it’s midnight! Where are—”

“Running!” I yell, then slam the front door behind me.

And that’s what I do. I run. I run straight to Sky’s house because she’s the only thing in the world that can help me breathe again.

Chapter Thirty-three

These past few weeks of doing everything in my power to avoid her have taken every ounce of my strength and I can’t do it anymore. I thought by staying away from her I was being strong, but not being near her is making me weaker than I’ve ever been. I know I shouldn’t be here and I know she doesn’t want me here but I have to see her. I have to hear her, I have to touch her, I have to feel her against me because that weekend I spent with her was the only time since I walked away from her thirteen years ago that I actually looked forward.

I’ve never looked forward before. I’ve always looked back. I think about the past way too much and I think about what I should have done and everything I did wrong and I’ve never once looked forward in my life. Being with her had me thinking about tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and next year and forever. I need that right now because if I don’t get to hold her one more time . . . I’m scared I’ll look back again and the past will completely swallow me up.

I grab the windowsill and close my eyes. I inhale several times in an attempt to calm my pulse and the trembling going on with my hands right now.

I hate that she always leaves her window unlocked. I push it up and slide the curtains back, then climb inside. I contemplate saying something so she’ll know I’m in her room, but I also don’t want to scare her if she’s asleep.

I turn and close the window and walk to her bed, then slowly ease myself down. She’s facing the other way, so I lift the covers and scoot in beside her. Her posture immediately stiffens and she pulls her hands up to her face. I know she’s awake and I know she knows it’s me climbing into her bed, but the fact that it terrifies her completely breaks me.

She’s scared of me. I didn’t expect fear to be a reaction from her at all. Anger, yes. I’d so much rather her be angry at me right now than scared.