Page 93 of Save Me

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” he starts tentatively.

Something must be wrong. Why else would he be calling?

“Is everyone okay?” I cut him off. “Did something happen—”

“Everyone’s fine,” he says quietly. “Though it seems as though you haven’t been.”

“Wha—”

“I saw the video.” He lets out a loud exhale and everything I was feeling goes quiet as I freeze, my chest tightening as panic surges through me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I try to cover shakily.

He lets out a strangled sound, something between a laugh and a cry. “I recognize your apartment, Evi. The world might not, but I do.”

Fuck.

“Look, this isn’t a good time for me.” I look at the front door, anticipating Ryan at any second. “But if you just called to rub it in my face, to add it to the list of things I’ve done to push the family even further away from me, then—”

“I’m calling to check in on you,” he says quietly. “I’m calling to make sure you’re okay… to ask what I can do to help you.”

I pause, not expecting that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why now?” I huff a sigh. “You just cut me off, Garrett. One word from dad and you just chose to ignore my existence. So why? Why do you care now?”

I rub a shaky hand over my face, lacking the capacity to deal with this now, to deal with the flood of emotions that slam into me.

“You’re my sister,” he says, his voice thick with sadness. He takes a breath. “You’re my sister and this happened to you. Deny it all you want. I know it was you, blurred face or not… I know what your apartment looks like.”

“I’m fine now,” I say quietly. “It took a while but I’m… fine.”

“I’m sorry, you know.”

I pause my pacing at his apology.

“I’ve regretted cutting you off every single day,” he explains. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that by staying in their good graces, by being the son they want me to be and following their rules, I could help get them to see your side of things. I thought I could get them to realize that what you were doing—following your dreams—isn’t something to be punished for. But the more time I spent around them, the more I tried to convince them otherwise, the more they painted you as the villain in their story. The more they pushed back against everything you were doing, and it just made it worse. And then the video surfaced…”

His voice goes quiet, and it sounds like he’s pacing back and forth now, perhaps unsure of what to say, or how to say it.

“Fuck, Evi,” he says, the frustration and hurt in his tone audible. “I should have responded to your text. When you said you hadn’t been good… but I didn’t. I was too caught up in my own shit, too focused on trying to appease dad. And to think…” He trails off, taking another breath before continuing, “To think you went throughthatand I couldn’t even text you back to check in on you, to make sure you were okay. I am so sorry.”

I take a shaky breath, as sadness and relief both threaten to overwhelm me.

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault,” I say automatically.

“It is,” he says, defeat lacing his words. “I made a choice, and I chose wrong. I chose not to be there for you, and I’ll regretthat for as long as I live. I want to be here for you now, but I understand if you’re not interested. I acted like a total dick.”

I pause, unsure of how to respond, how to process all of what he’s saying when half my attention is elsewhere, anticipating what I’m going to do shortly. How do I tell him how much his silence stung over the past several months? How do I explain how his willingness to abandon me so quickly, the betrayal of his actions, caused a kind of pain I never want to experience again?

“I… I need some time to think about that.” I try to summon some confidence, some semblance of assertiveness, but I miss him, I miss my family, as much as I don’t want to admit it.

“You hurt me, Garrett,” I continue. “I know our parents were never on my side, but I thought you would always have my back, and then you just… disappeared from my life. And that hurt. And now the only reason you’re reaching out is because yousawwhat I went through, instead of reaching out when I texted you in the first place. I just… I just need some time to process all of this.”

“I get that, I do,” he replies solemnly. “And I am sorry. I’m sorry I cut you off. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. And I’m sorry that you’ve been going through this alone.”

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