Page 54 of Bring You Back

I just need more.

I swallow the last of my beer, then grab another, chug it down.

“Good idea,” Banks says before doing the same.Ahhhh.

13

The Worst at Night

Camille

I jolt awake, the jerk of my body under the covers sending Grumbles scrambling off the bed to her corner. Every part of my body aches as a sick feeling rolls through my stomach. I grip the sheets, pinching the softness as my heart starts the uncomfortable pounding. I take in my surroundings, starting with the moonlight coming in through the window, and recite my reality.

I’m at the Fowler house.

I’m in the guest room.

Same queen size bed, same nightstand, same gray lampshade, same black chest of drawers.

Caleb is dead.

My pulse is loud and heavy.Thump, thump, thump.

I fling off the covers and push to the side of the bed, inhaling deep breaths and letting them out slowly until my heart settles.

My eyes find the bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to skip them. Changing location—even if the location is better than where you came from—doesn’t change who you are or what you’re going through. There’s no magic cure.

But I refuse to use them as a crutch for the rest of my life.

The sick feeling in my stomach travels upward and I dry heave at the floor, my hand sweeping the pills off the nightstand.Fuck you and your little blue bodies.I watch the bottle roll across the wood and come to a stop against the closet door, inhaling more deep breaths.

I’m glad I made the choice to not eat or drink anything before bed. Good call on that one.

My eyes avert to the top drawer of the nightstand where my notebook rests, the pages filled with memories of my brother. I’ve written them down as they’ve come to me. Starting with the last.

Spicy or regular?he asked me.

Spicy,I told him.

He gave me a thumbs up and walked out the door.

I’ve lost him once. I can’t lose him twice.

My chest squeezes as I pull out the notebook, press the inked tip of the pen to a blank sheet. I manage to write three words before I shove the notebook and pen back inside the drawer and slam it shut.

Everything gets the worst at night.

I push off the bed and hurry to the door, chasing the bright light. I pause in the doorway, my eyes staring down the hall and fixing to the porch light still shining through the window of the front door. I sigh, resting my head against the frame.

Julian’s bedroom door is closed. He’s not in there. He’s made it a habit to stay gone every night since I’m now here every night.

The other guest room across the house is open, light off. Banks is gone, too, but that’s never a loss.

They’re all out with somebody—possibly all together—and I’m here.

I think about sending Julian another text, but the thought of him having been with Reyna my first night back, knowing that I was here, giving no fucks exceptthatone. . .

I still have pride. I still have feelings of my own that are tired of being stomped on. I won’t burst in on them. I won’t drag him by the hair to come back home, to me. Nor will I stare up at him with my hands clasped in prayer.

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