Page 54 of With a Broken Wing
Fisher.
FISHER:Happy birthday, princess.
FISHER:Such a shame it won’t be much of a celebration.
I froze with my fingers over the keyboard, dropping my phone to the bed and burying my face in the pillow.
Twenty-nine years old.I didn’t think I’d see that day come, and more than once I’d wished it wouldn’t. People were supposed to be excited on their birthday, but all I’d felt was dread when I woke up in Jules’s guest room.Shame it won’t be much of a celebration.
I dreaded that I wouldn’t be able to pout at home like I did every year. I could already feel the way my cheeks would twitch when they got tired of holding a fake smile. My social battery was less than drained. It was broken.
Jules had already come in twice and sent in Auston once. If I didn’t get out of this bed, one of them was going to make me. I knew it, and they would both be past the point of being nice about it too.
They didn’t let Katie try. They knew she’d curl up with me and try to comfort me. She was the gentle friend who wasn’tsick of my shitas Auston put it.
My legs ached by the time I climbed out of the shower, weak from spending two weeks practically in bed. A nervous case of heartburn threatened the back of my throat, and I sucked in a deep breath. In.One, two, three, four, five.Out.One, two, three, four, five.
It didn’t work to steady the shaking in my hands, but it stopped me from curling into a ball on the bathroom floor. I dug through the clothes that had gone ignored in my suitcase—the one Jules packed for me.
She told me I should wear something cute, and if by cute she meant the sundress she had stuck in there, it wasn’t happening. I’d scoffed when I’d seen the pink cotton dress I normally loved, realizing she’d never intended to have me home before today.
Instead, I settled on a pair of denim shorts and a baggy black tank top. I looked in the mirror, cringing at the way my shorts hung off my hips more than they had the last time I’d worn them. The black made me look paler than I already was.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder before pulling it up into a ponytail and deciding that wouldn’t work. My hair was like wet straw in my hands, and it wasn’t going to lie right no matter how I wore it. Settling on my signature loose, messy bun on the top of my head, I checked my reflection.
My eyes burned with tears. The reminder he’d be there. It was too much.
I can’t do it.
I dropped the lip gloss I’d considered applying and moved back to the bed. The blankets were comforting when I pulled them up over my head, tucking them under me. I wanted them to swallow me up, take away the light from the window.
My comfort was short-lived when the door burst open. “Nah-uh. I don’t think so.Get up.”
“Jules, please.”
“Damn it, Andy! No!” She yanked the blanket from me, throwing it on the floor behind her. “I told you earlier, I will drag you there by your hair.Pleasedon’t make me.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Is this what Fisher wanted? For me to shut down so it was more believable when I died? Jules was right. It would probably do me some good to get out of the house.
A mixed feeling of dread and understanding filled me when I sat up, and even though I wouldn’t be spending my birthday drinking too much and complaining with my twin, at least I was breathing.For now.
“I knew you’d give in eventually.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, wrapping her arm around me and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Happy birthday, babe.”
“I’m going on one condition.” I pinned her with my stare. “It’s not my birthday.”
She rolled her eyes, releasing her hold on me. “Fine. I will pretend it’s not your birthday.” Then the look I dreaded returned. The pity, the worry, and the eagerness tohelp. “I’m just happy to see you get out of bed.”
I nodded, blinking to chase away the burn of impending tears. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”
I didn’t miss the tears that welled in her eyes before she turned around, and guilt settled over me. My best friend had flown to Grand Rapids to bring me out of my hole, and then still let me shut myself away in here.
“I can’t lose you, Andy,” she whispered, opening the door.
I let the breath I’d been holding out and caught up to her, grabbing her hand. I hated seeing her cry. “I love you, Jules,” I told her, but I couldn’t promise her anything. She squeezed my hand.
The air smelledlike oil and powdered sugar, and I already regretted giving in to Jules’s request for the funnel cakes. Music played too loudly on the speakers, making everyone shout their conversations. It was going to be a long day, and I considered leaving until I saw her.
She was smiling, but it wasn’t convincing, not even half as real as her normal fake smile. Her eyes were different. They didn’t have the light behind them that made them so piercing. The clothes she was wearing lacked color and hung loose on her figure, and her cheekbones were more prominent. She hadn’t been eating.
