Page 95 of Built to Fall
Red-rimmed. Shiny.
I have no idea what this is about, but my chest tightens in a way I can’t stand, and it’s all because of the way she’s looking at me.
Like, if I say one wrong thing, she’s going to crumple into pieces outside my door.
“Lina?” I say, stepping out of the way immediately. “What the hell—are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer. Just ducks her head, walking past me like she can’t get inside fast enough.
The breath leaves my lungs in one slow, burning rush as I shut the door and turn to follow her.
I step closer. “What happened?”
Like usual, the worst possible scenarios play through my brain.Did she go running again? Did something happen?
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and when a tear slips down her cheek, my stomach knots so hard I feel sick.
Without thinking, I reach for her—my hands gentle on her arms, thumbs brushing over her soft skin.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she sags forward like the strength’s finally drained out of her, and I catch her easily, wrapping her up against my chest. Her hands fist into my hoodie like she’s afraid I’ll let go, and the second I feel her shaking, my own heart cracks right down the center.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur into her hair, rocking us slightly without meaning to. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
“I-I—”Goddamn, she can’t even get her words out.
“Did something happen?” I ask, surveying her up and down, looking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head—barely.
Jesus,this is killing me. Like seriously ripping me up from the inside out.
“Have you been to the mall at Christmas time since your mom died?” Her question is barely coherent through the sobs racking her body, but I understand it enough.
“Uh…no,” I say honestly, my hands tightening on her back. “I haven’t.”
She hiccups a breath against me, and it’s the most broken sound I’ve ever heard come out of her.
“I thought I could handle it. It’s been long enough. I thought—God, I thought if I kept moving, kept doing normal things, it’d be fine.” Another tear slips down her cheek, soaking into my hoodie.
“But everything there—every stupid Christmas tree, every carol, every little kid dragging their mom’s hand through the crowd—it just felt like she should’ve been there. She’s supposed to be here. And she’s not. And she’s never going to be again.”
Her words crack open something deep inside me, a place I didn’t even know existed until now. She pulls back enough to look up at me, her eyes swimming.
“I tried to buy a gift for my aunt,” she chokes out. “I stood there in the stupid watch store for twenty minutes, trying to pick one, and all I could think about was how Mom used to pick out the perfect gifts for everyone. She would’ve known exactly what to get. And I didn’t even make it to the register before I lost it.”
I don’t know much of anything about Lina’s mom. She doesn’t talk about her. What I’ve gathered, though, is that they were close.
Lina’s an only child without her dad in the picture. Growing up, she and her mom had each other. That bond was everything, and it was ripped away from her.
“Lina,” I say, her name thick in my throat. I tug her back in, one hand cradling her head, my fingers getting lost in her hair, as she presses her forehead into my chest again.
“I feel so stupid,” she mumbles, her voice cracking all over the place. “Everyone else is living their life. And I’m falling apart in the middle of a freaking jewelry store.”
“You’re not stupid,” I say immediately, firmly, like maybe if I say it hard enough it’ll erase even a piece of the guilt from her. “You loved her—loveher—of course shit like that is going to hurt.”
Her arms tighten around me. “I should be better by now. The whole point of me coming back was to get back to my normal life.”
“There’s no such thing,” I promise her. “It’s impossible to love someone that much for that long and expect yourself to ever be okay with the fact that they’re gone.”
