Page 92 of When Fate Breaks
Blake reaches for another picture of him and his dad.
“Blake,stop!”
I feel my heart shatter at the same time the picture frame does. Blake is making strangled grunting sounds as he whips around, reaching for anything else he can break. When he snatches his dad’sLittle League Coach of the Yeartrophy from Kyle’s desk and turns back towards me, I realize the grunts are actually sniffles, and that tears are streaming down his face. Blake raises his arm in the air to smash the trophy.
“Blake!”
I dart forward, reaching up and gripping Blake’s raised wrist in both of my hands.
He meets my eyes at the same time Emily and several other houseguests appear in the doorway behind me.
“What is going on?” Emily squeaks.
Blake doesn’t answer his mother, his eyes staying locked on me. “Let go,” he mutters.
“No.”
Blake’s eyes burn into mine for several more seconds before I see them gradually soften, his bottom lip quivering.
“Give it to me, Blake,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
I can hear Emily quietly crying behind me and can feel everyone’s gazes on my back, but I don’t care. Only Blake and I are in this room right now. Only Blake and I exist right now.
Blake’s grip relaxes, releasing the trophy. He has barely let go before he is stumbling backward and sliding to the floor, his shoulders racking with sobs.
My mouth dries and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I feel a gaping hole in my chest for this poor broken boy in front of me. This boy that means so much to me. This boy that is usually so full of light and hope. He doesn’t deserve this. Any of this.
I have no idea how I plan to comfort him, but I barely take a step forward before I am being pulled back by my shoulders and Emily is rushing past me. I hear my dad whisper something to me, but it doesn’t register.
Everything is a blur around me as I see Emily Di Fazio fall to the floor and throw her arms around her sobbing son and the door to the office is shut in my face.
* * *
Six hundred and forty-seven.
That’s how many books of various ages, shapes, and sizes are crammed into the grand bookcase built into the wall of the Di Fazios’s game room.
I know because I’ve counted them all.
Four times.
I let out a sigh, rolling onto my back gingerly so as to not wake Steph, who is fast asleep on the other end of the leather sectional couch.
I guess I’m just wondering how this fits into your master plan.
He left me behind.
Screw us, right?
How would you fitthisinto your perfect picture?
Well, I guess we’ll never know.
Blake’s words replay and swirl through my mind like a tornado. At this point I’m pretty sure I’m physically incapable of crying any more. My entire body feels numb. A deep ache within my chest is the only thing reminding me I’m still awake.
Why can we never sleep when that’s the only thing we want to do?
I just need to close my eyes. Escape from all of this for a while. I’ll talk to Blake in the morning.
