Page 64 of The Wreckage Of Us
Corinne turns, surprise flickering across her face.
“Please,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Please don’t go yet. Just… one more minute. Just one more.”
I hate how I sound. I hate the way my hands tremble, the way my body betrays me. But Corinne doesn’t look annoyed. She smiles, tears glimmering in her eyes. She crouches down a little, pressing her forehead to mine.
“One more minute,” she agrees softly.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to memorize everything — the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice.
“I’m so proud of you, Brit,” she whispers. “So, so proud.”
When I finally let her go, I feel like I’m peeling off a layer of myself. She walks to the door, turns back one last time, blows us a kiss, and then she’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and the room feels too big, too empty.
For a long moment, none of us speak. Then Tate claps his hands, breaking the silence. “Well,” he says roughly, “that was a lot of feelings before breakfast.”
Sylvia lets out a watery laugh. “Yeah.”
I sink onto the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees.
“You okay, Brit?” Sylvia asks gently, sitting beside me.
I shrug, blinking hard. “I don’t know.”
Tate drops down on my other side, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “We’ll get through it together, yeah?”
I rest my head against his arm, feeling Sylvia’s hand squeeze mine. And for the first time since Corinne packed her bag, the panic eases just a little.
Later that night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, quiet except for the faint rustle of Sylvia’s sheets and Tate’s soft snores down the hall.
I replay the day over and over in my head — Corinne’s laugh, the way she hugged me, the promise she made. My fingers itch to call her, to hear her voice one more time. But I don’t. I press my palms flat against my chest, feeling my heartbeat, whispering to myself: You’re okay. You’re okay.
Maybe tomorrow will be a good day. Maybe it won’t. But when the café door opens next month, and I see Corinne’s face on the other side, I know — I know — I’ll be ready.
For her. For me. For all of us.
Chapter 24
Brittany
The Past - Age 23
I stood in front of the mirror, fingers trembling as I traced the edge of my hospital bracelet. My reflection stared back-long limbs, soft blonde waves, cheeks no longer hollow, eyes no longer sunken. I almost didn't recognize myself. Fifty-nine kilograms. Fifty-nine. The nurse smiled when she weighed me this morning, clapping her hands like I was a five-year-old who'd won a prize. Maybe I had.
"Brits, honey, it's time," a nurse's gentle voice called from the door.
My heart leaped in my chest.
I followed her out, barefoot on the cold floor, clutching the stuffed rabbit Jasper had sent me when he couldn't visit.
The other patients looking at me,
"She's been such a fighter," one whispered.
"She's a miracle," said another.
I hugged my bunny tighter as I walked the Honor Walk, the bell shining at the end of the hallway. My weight this
