Life In Reverse(69)

The front door opens then, and my mouth along with it. Any sympathy I had for my father goes right out the f*cking window.

Something clicks in my head, as if a light turns on and everything becomes brutally clear. “What the… is she the reason we moved here, Dad?”

“Vance—”

I cut him off. “Answer the question. Oh my God, are you f*cking in love with her?”

I don’t need an answer. It’s in his eyes, and on her face. It’s swirling in the air around us until it swallows me whole—and I only have one choice.

I should have known better.

Every good thing I felt gets swept away in a matter of seconds. A tidal wave pulls me under and takes it from me, tossing me around until it’s gone.

Maybe it wasn’t meant for me after all.

My head hurts and I can’t think straight. The need to escape before I say or do something I’ll regret is overwhelming. My father shouts after me, pleading, as I lunge into the car. But my ears are ringing and my soul is completely shattered.

I shove the key into the ignition then yank the gear lever down, slamming my foot on the gas pedal. Tires screech as I peel out of the driveway and speed off down the street. My hands won’t stop trembling and I wrap them tighter around the steering wheel as harsh tears drag across my cheeks.

Everything is f*cked now.

With no destination in mind, I keep driving, promising myself that I won’t look back—that I can’t look back. Because if I do, the only thing I’ll see is the one thing I’m leaving behind.

My heart.





LIGHT BEAMING IN the window startles me awake. The bright moon filters through the curtains and I press my face into the pillow, unable to contain my smile. As I turn over to find the reason for it, he isn’t there. Instead, a single pink rose lies in his place. I bring it to my nose, inhaling its sweet scent and remembering every vivid detail of our night—Vance’s hands, his lips, his whispered words. My skin tingles everywhere he touched, his smell lingering on my sheets and in the air.

Warmth floods my body as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, grinning at the clothes scattered about the room. My t-shirt hangs off the other lampshade and I laugh at Vance’s perfect aim, even in the near darkness.

Gathering a clean pair of panties from the drawer, I slide them on along with a fresh t-shirt and sleep shorts. The red numbers on the clock blaring 3:00am make me cringe, knowing that my chances of falling back to sleep are nonexistent.

With a sigh, I head downstairs, fumbling for the light switch before padding to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. Restless, I putter around, opening and closing cabinets, not looking for anything in particular. I pause to stare out the window and my thoughts go to Vance. As if my whole body is awash with color, the desire to sculpt overwhelms me.

On my way to the basement, the front door opens and I grab my chest, nearly jumping out of my skin. My mom shuffles in the door. She doesn’t notice me right away because her head is down. “Geez, Mom. You scared me half to death. What are you doing home this early?” She doesn’t answer nor does she look up. On a second glance, she seems… off. Her hair is a tangled mess, blouse wrinkled and hanging out of her skirt. “Mom?”

Her head whips up as if she didn’t hear me, or expect to see me for that matter. Her normally bright gaze is hollow. Dried tears stain her cheeks while black smudges line her skin. She still won’t meet my eyes, averting her focus to something beyond my shoulder.

“Mom?” Why won’t she answer me? My voice rises to a higher pitch. “What happened to you?” Still no answer. She walks past me, her shoulders sagging. “Mom!” I shout this time, and she stops mid-way up the stairs.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mumbles.

“Mom, you’re scaring me. Did something happen to Avery or Dad?”

She raises her chin a fraction, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she mumbles again like I’m not in the room. Then her gaze finally connects with mine and her voice cracks. “We didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Bringing a hand to the side of her head, she whispers, “We were both in pain… and lonely… we didn’t want to hurt anyone… least of all our kids.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

She continues climbing the stairs as my mind struggles to put the pieces together. None of this makes any sense—until it does. It can’t be, though. How can it be? No, no, no. Please, don’t let it be true. But deep down, I feel it.

The glass tumbles from my hand and shatters into tiny pieces, water splattering onto the tile floor. I hear my mother shouting, asking me what’s wrong. But my only thought is of Vance. I sprint to the door and jam my feet in my sneakers then tear out of the house, practically tripping down the front steps. I’m gasping for breaths that won’t come. Pressure builds behind my eyes before the tears arrive and I curse them for falling. It’s almost like my heart knows. The walls around it already caving in, the beat slowing to a halt. And when I round the corner I close my eyes in silent prayer. But I already know. Even before I open my eyes—I know.

And I was right about my heart. It doesn’t break.

I just can’t feel it anymore.