The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(58)

Disappointment in my cowardice.
Disappointment in my apathy.
Disappointment in the time I’ve wasted.
I don’t even know who the f*ck I am anymore.
“You’ve already buried her Bree, but she’s still alive.”
My hands find my face, covering my cheeks as my fingernails dig into the skin underneath them out of pure frustration. My heart aches with the knowledge that she was forced to face this fight without me by her side.
A battle she’s waging not for herself, but for me. For me.
Guilt overcomes me, and the piercing pain of its presence slices open my chest with the precision of a sharpened blade. Tears roll down my wrists and forearms as it penetrates, cutting and stripping away the layers of decay until only a small sliver which burns brightly with unwavering vitality remains.
I love Linda. She deserves more than I could ever possibly give her. Definitely more than what I’ve settled on providing her over the last several months with my nonexistence.
Shame fills my heart.
I should have been here, right by her side as she fights this impossible fight.
And with the allowance of that admission, I cautiously grip the shard of light, cradling it and nestling it closely as I guide it slowly into the voided space in my chest, then release it carefully. As the warmth sparks and begins to spread throughout, I breathe in slowly, enjoying the soothing calm of its presence.
It may only be a spark, but I find myself hoping that it continues to grow.
Tearing my hands away from my eyes, I open them, surprised by the flush in my cheeks as my coloring returns with vigor before leaning forward and plucking the contacts out of my eyes.
And then, against all odds, new-found determination sets in as I drop them in the commode and jump in the shower.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After finding the bag that Kaeleb so lovingly dropped by the bathroom door, I grab my clothes, thankful for the familiar jeans and concert tee that he packed, but also note that he must have left my trusty Docs at home with my contact case. I slip my feet into my Chucks and haphazardly brush my hair before wrapping an elastic band around it at the crown and half-pulling it through so it looks like a big ball against my head. A sheer white color tops my lids, which are thankfully less swollen after the shower, since that’s the only other color left in my makeup bag. After brushing the mascara through my lashes, I slide a sheer gloss over my lips and finally exit the bathroom.
Hesitantly, I enter the kitchen to find Kaeleb bent at the waist, rummaging through the refrigerator.
Sigh.
He’s always looked really good in those jeans, the ones that hang low from the waist and fit rather nicely across his ass. The navy button-up he’s wearing lies perfectly along the tops of the familiar designs on his back pockets, and I’m momentarily memorized as I watch the movements of his back and the way his forearms bulge underneath the rolls of his sleeves as he grabs items off the top shelf.
God, I miss him.
After stockpiling practically the whole fridge in his arms, he pivots around, only to come to a standstill when he sees me standing behind the counter. I’m sure my staring is blatantly obvious, but I don’t feel bad because he’s now doing the same to me. His eyes run from my hair, to my eyes, to my chest, and then back to my eyes before he clears his throat and resumes his steps to the other side of the counter.
“You look…better. Leaving the piercings in I see.”
I reach up and skim my eyebrow with my fingertips before flicking my septum piercing just for spite.
I definitely don’t miss this attitude of his.
“Maybe some other time. Think you can just be happy about the contacts for today?”
His head dips his acceptance and he tears his gaze from me, setting the food down and reaching inside the cabinet to grab two paper plates.
Damn, he really does know his way around this place.
“Sandwich?” he asks, gesturing to the bread in front of him before opening the bag and throwing two slices on both plates.
“Um, looks like it doesn’t matter what I say, does it?” I respond, watching as he places a couple of slices of ham on the bread before adding lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, and mustard.
Once he’s done, he raises his eyes to meet mine. Without breaking eye contact, he flicks his wrist, releasing the plate from his fingers and sending it spinning before it comes to a stop right in front of me. “Nope, it really doesn’t.”
I tighten my eyes at him and watch as he adds potato chips to his sandwich, mashing down the top slice of bread before taking a bite.
“Eat,” he remarks through a full mouth while jerking his head in my direction.
“Look,” I huff, still not taking a bite from the blasted sandwich. “I get that you’re pissed at me, okay, but do you think it’s possible for you to refrain from being a complete jerkoff today?”
He shakes his head. “No, probably not.”
After finishing his sandwich in three bites flat, he leans forward, placing his palms on the counter, and staring at my untouched food. “You need to eat, Bree. But take it slow.” Raising his head, his eyes latch onto mine, ill humor working its way into his expression. “Your body might go into shock from actually consuming food as opposed to the liquid diet you’ve been consuming non-stop.”
My eyes tighten into slits as he laughs under his breath, but I grab the sandwich anyway and bring it to my mouth. Just before I take a bite, I lower it, using the same line he used on me a little over an hour ago. “Some things never change, I see. Once an *, always an *.”
Taking the sandwich in one hand, I bring it back toward my ear and chuck it as hard as I can, watching with a smirk on my face as it lands smack against his forehead and then falls to the counter, right between his hands.