Page 167 of Next to Everything We Wanted
“Oh, there’s a crazier one—that Forrest Tansel is in your secret band. Can you believe that?”
Would it be okay to hang up on him and throw up?
“Gosh, that guy was such a jerk. But I kind of felt bad for him when he disappeared. I hope he’s doing alright.”
Trust me, he’s not.
“Um, are you okay?” Justin blinked at me. “You’re pale. Like, much paler than usual. Did I say something wrong?”
“I have to go.” I hung up the call before dashing into the bathroom.
Instead of leaning over the toilet, I gripped onto the sink, trying to catch my breath as my chest heaved.Breathe in and out. Inhale and exhale. In and out.
Why aren’t you breathing?
I examined myself in the mirror. Justin was right—I looked like I’d just seen a ghost. My eyes weren’t red and puffy from crying anymore, though they were heavy and wide, much darker than usual. All the blood had drained from my face.
My mind transported me back to my time in Charm Street. I’d looked like this every time I had a panic attack, trying to calm myself down before facing everyone. I couldn’t let anyone see me fall apart like this.
A sinking feeling took home in me as I watched myself struggle to breathe.
I was right back where I’d started. Like my years of progress had been wiped by a tsunami, leaving nothing but a broken boy behind. I’d fought so hard for everything I wanted the past two and a half years, only to never get it.
I’d gone through all of this for nothing.
CHAPTER 40
Sienna
“We should’ve done this sooner.”
I nodded at Dad as I punched the boxing bag in front of me, a mountain of sweat piling on my forehead. “Who needs a perfect home gym when you have this?”
Dad’s boxing bag had been collecting dust in the garage for the past few years, but after opening up to each other, Dad took Monday off to spend time with me. It’d been so long since we’d been alone together outside of meals.
“I feel myself getting younger already,” Dad said, kicking the bag. “I need to strengthen these old bones.”
“Come on, you’re only forty-four. You’re not considered old until you’re fifty.”
“That’s good to know.” He laughed. “Are you feeling better?”
“A little bit.” My chest still burned as I thought about this weekend. “The heartbreak dance party could only do so much last night.”
“Would it be weird if I started playing breakup music?”
I snorted. “Our music tastes aresodifferent. I don’t think that’d go over well.”
“Come on, my music isn’tthatbad.”
“I never said it was bad.” It was terrible. “I said it was different.”
He rolled his eyes. “My old rock songs are better than your sad girl pop music.”
“I don’t just listen to sad girl pop. I listen to everything. You know, after the twenty-first century.”
“I listen to music from the twenty-first century.”
“Yeah, but does itsoundlike it?”
