Page 93 of Just Forever

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m—” I look around wildly. I don’t know what I’m searching for. An escape hatch? Because I’ve exclusively said the wrong things ever since I came home. Somehow, without planning to, I’m in full destruction mode. Elephant in a porcelain store. “You have to put yourself first. I want you to do what’s best for you. Not for us. But for you.”

“What’s best for usisbest for me.”

My heart is beating too loudly in my ears, and my breath is stuck somewhere in my lungs.

“You’re acting crazy,” he says.

I can’t argue with that, but I also can’t seem to stop and make myself less crazy.

I grit my teeth. There’s a lump in my throat. A huge lump that refuses to go down. I don’t know how to explain this to Ryker. I don’t know how to banish the ugly voice inside me that’s so loud that it drowns out everything else.

People are assholes.

People are assholes.

People are assholes.

I’m this close to covering my ears with my hands and squeezing my eyes shut like a little kid.

I need to get out of here. I need to step away, take a deep breath, and stop the claws of panic from scratching the inside of my chest bloody, because I can’t think clearly like this.

I take that step. Away from Ryker.

“Don’t even think about running away,” he says, voice filled with steel now.

“I’m not,” I snap, even though I’m already backing away.

“Lake, I swear to God,” he says.

But I’m already in the hallway.

“I need air,” I say. “And I need a few minutes.”

I stuff my feet into my boots, blindly grab Ryker’s car keys from the basket by the door, and then I storm out of the apartment without looking back.

RYKER

I standin the middle of the hallway and stare at the front door, whiplashed and sort of dazed. I’m not even entirely certain at this point that I didn’t somehow imagine this whole thing. Maybe the door is going to open again, and Lake will walk in. He’ll send me one of his sardonic smiles and ask if I’ve decided to become a statue.

I wait.

Nothing happens.

The door stays stubbornly shut, and the anxious feeling in my gut churns on.

I drag my fingers through my hair and let out a shout of frustration.

I’m honestly not sure how we got to this point in so little time. How the argument grew out of control so quickly.

How we even managed to get into an argument in the first place.

I replay what we said. None of it makes sense. None of what Lake said makes any goddamn sense. There was no reason for him to fly off the handle like that.

Eventually, I turn around and go back to the living room. The apartment is very, very quiet. Unusually so. It’s missing Lake’s presence. It’s missing the promise of his presence.

I’m supposed to eat dinner, but even if I was famished before, I don’t have any appetite at all now. Instead, my nerves are on edge and every sound—the bang of the neighbor’s door, a shout from outside—makes me jump and jerk toward the hallway.

Still no Lake.

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