Page 31 of Before You
“It was his choice,” I remind him, laughing under my breath. “I miss you guys. I’m sorry I haven’t called much since getting back here.”
“It’s okay. You’re in college and busy with your own life,” Dad says, and I know he doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but I still feel guilty.
“How are you and Mom doing?” I ask, and it’s when Dad hesitates before responding I know he’s lying. I wonder what Bailey would say if he knew in the aftermath of him leaving, we’ve all become professional liars trying to take care of each other.
“We’re doing alright. Don’t worry about us, though. Your focus should be on football and school. Mom’s happy about Mirabelle and Henry getting engaged because it gives her something new to put her energy into.”
It’s what he doesn’t say that kills me. They haven’t been doing well since Bailey ran away, and while it’s affected us all differently, everyone blames themselves. My parents have never done anything but love us, and I don’t know what it is Bailey thinks they lied about, but it breaks my fucking heart for them. If I weren’t so damn relieved every time Bailey checks in, I’d probably scream at him.I’m terrified if I start screaming, I’ll never stop.
I pull at my shirt as if it can help assuage the pressure building in my chest, compressing my lungs to the point I’m struggling to take a breath. “I haven’t heard from him,” I say, guilt bleeding into my voice.
“JJ, you don’t need to carry this weight. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says, but my stomach still churns with guilt. I need to keep running.
“He’s my little brother, of course it is.” Everything is getting too loud in my head, and I need it to stop. “Bailey should be calling any day to check in.”
“Will . . .” Dad trails off, clearing his throat. “Will you please let us know when he does call?”
This is so fucking unfair. None of this should be happening.
“Of course, Dad,” I say.
“Thanks, JJ. I really appreciate it.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t fucking breathe. “Sorry, but I still have a couple of miles left to go. I’ll call Mom when I’m done.”
“I love you, son,” Dad says, and I know he does. I only wish it were possible for us to have a phone call without being reminded I’m the one Bailey calls. I can’t remember the last time we talked and he wasn’t brought up.
“Love you too,” I say, ending the call. Double checking the arm strap for my phone holder, I adjust my headphones before taking off at a fast jog, my knee momentarily protesting at the abruptness.
I need to run until I can’t feel this anymore.
I don’t want to feel like this anymore, but I don’t know how to make it stop.
My pace finally slows when the only thing I can focus on is how my lungs are gasping for air while my knee throbs incessantly. I can feel the sweat dripping down my body, and I drop to the grass next to the sidewalk, trying to catch my breath.I’m not even sure I want to know how pathetic I look right now, but it can’t be worse than I feel.
I drag my hands over my face, my hands shaking as I take out my headphones when I spot the small store on the other side of the road, tucked between two larger ones making it nearly invisible to see.
Hope’s Flowers.
Maybe I could use a little bit of hope right now.
Despite the way my body protests any movement, I pull myself up, staggering across the street following the instinct tugging in my chest. After stepping in, I’m embarrassed by how ragged my breathing is as I look around at all the delicate flowers.
What the hell am I doing? Marley wants nothing to do with me now, and I’m a walking disaster.
I shouldn’t be here.
“Are you okay?” an older man asks from behind the counter.
“I’m sorry, I just . . .” I trail off, unsure if I have it in me to tell another lie today. Eventually, I’m not sure I’ll know what the truth is.
“It’s okay. Let me grab you some water from the back,” he says, standing up, and I stare in surprise as he uses a cane to move toward the door on the back of the store.
“You don’t have to,” I protest, and he waves me off.
“You need it more than I do. Besides, it’s better for me if you don’t die in my wife’s shop. Hope might come back from the dead to take me with her if I let that happen,” he jests, and I relax a little.
“I’d prefer not to die,” I agree as he returns, water bottle in hand. “Thank you, I’m JJ,” I say, accepting his kindness.
