Page 51 of Sunshine

I already regret my actions tonight, but being rejected by Jason hurts in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how else to dull that ache.

“How are you doing?” Wells asks quietly as he pulls the truck up along the front of my house, studying the dark windows in the front.

“I’ve been better,” I say through a sigh. If only I could make the trees stop spinning around us.

Wells grunts, and it sounds like he’s irritated.I deserve it, I think.Look at the mess I’m making.He pushes out of his door and rounds the hood to my side to let me out. I almost stumble as I climb down, but his warm hand steadies me, and I find myself leaning into his touch.

I’m surprised when he walks me all the way to my front door like that. “This is as far as I go,” he says warily, releasing my arm.

I guess it probably makes him a little nervous to bring me home in a state like this. None of this is his fault. “I’m really sorry,” I say again. When he finally looks at me, his familiar brown eyes are attentive. I have to squint one of mine closed to keep from seeing four of them.

“You’re too good for this shit,” he finally says back.

I huff out a laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.”

I can only stare at him as the shock of his earnestness pulls a fresh wave of tears to the surface. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong,” I force out, my face twisting around a low sob.

Wells moves closer to me, determination slicing through his brow. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says firmly. “Trust me.”

“Then why?” I ask, desperate for arealanswer. “Why is it too much for him to be with me?”

Wells hesitates, jaw clenching tight as if he’s holding something back. I’d give anything to know what it is. “You know what I think?” he finally asks.

“What?” I rub the pads of my fingers under my damp eyes.

He moves toward me again, and it’s only now that I realize how close he’s gotten. I watch his throat work around a swallow, and my eyes trail up his deep olive skin until I have to tip my head back. “I think you’re way too fucking good for him anyway.”

Something low and instinctual pulses deep inside me, like a beacon signaling danger. His dark eyes roam along my face, and I revel in the feeling of being seen so honestly, even if it all feels like too much. It’s the kind of look that means something, and I don’t know how to grapple with the fact that it’s Wells on the other end of it.

“I think I should get inside,” I whisper. My tongue feels thick against the roof of my mouth.

His eyes flare brightly before they dim, and he pullshis gaze away. “Okay.” He gives a quick nod. “Drink another glass of water before you go to bed.”

“Sure,” I concede, though I’m not sure I feel like risking the noise.

He takes a deep breath before he says, “Take care of yourself, sunshine.”

And then he walks back toward his truck.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

NOW

It’s a week until Christmas, and Mom has officially gone off the deep end with decorating the house. Annie is finally on winter break from school, so I lean into spending more and more time outside of my room to soak her in. Still, though, there are unexpected moments of grief and resentment that feel like a knife twisting inside of my chest, and it’s often a narrow escape back to the safety of my room where I can sob into my pillow.

The mix of learning about Jason being pulled to the bench before he died and the quiet rejection from Wells to process it together only catapults me back into a dangerous headspace. The influx of Christmas around me feels like a cosmic joke; aside from the warmth I feel in my sister’s smile, I can’t find a single ounce of joy to sink into.

There’s no denying that getting out of the house helps. Instead of covert escapades to the Bennetts’ ranch, Annie and I spend the afternoons walking through town. On Wednesdaymorning Regan calls to say she’s home from Florida State and wants to see me. I’ve gotten a number of texts from her since word about Jason’s accident got out, but I haven’t responded to any of them. What is there to say?Yes, my boyfriend is dead, and I’m fucking devastated. But after his funeral, I found out he’s been having an affair with a girl named Emma, and it’s thrown a giant wrench in our memories. Oh, and it’s possible his accident might not have been an accident, because things were going wrong with his “life plan” and he never learned how to deal with the hard shit.

Yeah,waytoo much drama to lay on anybody in a text message.

Still, I’m happy to hear from her. We make plans to get together at Luna’s Bakery, and the hug she gives me in the parking lot drives me right into the crying mess I’m always on the verge of. But it only makes her hug me harder.

After we manage to get ourselves inside to order a couple of mugs of tea and freshly baked gingerbread muffins, we sit in a small corner booth where I tell hereverything. By the end, she looks at me like everyone’s been looking at me since I threw up on Emma’s boots at the Wild Coyote—alarmed and full of sorrow. “Wow,” she gasps, clutching her chest. “I amsosorry, Layla. I don’t even know what to say . . .”

“It’s okay.” I give her a half-hearted smile. “I’m just trying to process through all the layers, you know?”

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