Page 84 of The Sun Will Rise
“Calm your tiny tits, Lo.” Amie wriggles herself free from Paloma’s hold. “Roo, talk. Is this about Everett?”
Jay holds me with one arm whilst his other moves around, and Katy wriggles before settling again. It’s only when I hear Everett’s voice fill the room that I realise my brother handed his phone to his girlfriend, and she used it to call my husband.
“Jay? What’s—Katy? Where’s Ruth?”
“We’re staging an intervention,” Paloma announces from the floor. Everett can’t see her in the frame. “What’s going on?”
“Ruth, honey…” His voice cracks as Katy settles against my shoulder, and I peek out from Jay’s chest to see his stricken face staring at his phone screen. “Baby girl, what’s going on?”
“He doesn’t know anything,” Amie murmurs to no one in particular. She reaches forward, gripping my chin and turning my head to face her.
“Ruth, you can’t go on like this. Talk to us, babe. Talk to Everett. Talk tosomeone.”
“Katy?” Everett’s voice is hoarse. “Can you pick me up at the airport?”
“One of us will be there,” Katy promises quietly. “Just text us when you have the details.”
I must have fallen asleep in Jay’s arms. When I open my eyes, they feel like sandpaper, but I’m still safely cocooned in my brother’s embrace, surrounded by the familiar scent of the same cologne he’s worn since I was a child. I peek out into the room. Paloma is on the floor, legs stretched wide in some kind of impossible-looking split with her torso touching the rug. Katy is in the corner of my sectional sofa, feet tucked up beneath her, reading something on her e-reader and smiling softly to herself. Amie is leaning against the breakfast bar, earbuds in her ears, talking quietly at her phone—I assume she’s on a video call with Cam and Maisy.
“Goodnight angel girl, I love you.”Pause. “She’s okay. Well, she’s not okay. But I think she will be.” Then, a moment later: “Yeah, connecting through Charlotte. I got him premium on the second leg. He’ll be here in the morning.”
I turn my head slightly as snippets of Amie’s quiet conversation filter across the room. Jay tightens his hold on me.
“You awake?” I feel his words more than hear them, with my head pressed into his chest.
“Nope.”
“Tough shit.” He adjusts us so I’m sitting up on my own, rather than leaning into him to support myself. “You’re not doing this, Rooey. I won’t let you do this to yourself. Or to your friends.”
“Too late.”
“Ruth.” Jay’s tone is something akin to a warning, but there’s a quiet desperation in there, too. When I lift my gaze to meet his eyes, I see it in his expression. The same kind of pain I felt when he shut down after his leg injury, mixed with the desire and dogged determination to fix it.
My brother huffs out a sigh before wrapping his arms around me again, pulling me back into his chest and dropping his face to my hair. I take slow, even breaths, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m sleeping, because he relaxes his hold on me and twists his hips lightly, trying to adjust his position without jostling me too much.
I know he thinks I’m asleep when I hear the whisper that comes from his lips.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see it, Roofus. I’m sorry I’ve failed you.”
You didn’t fail me, I think to myself. This mess is one of my own making, and in spite of it all, my best friends have supported me along the way. Will they support me now, when I tell them I quit my job and don’t have a backup? God, I hope so. I keep that hope close as I drift back into the sleep Jay thinks I’m already in.
Chapter forty-six
Everett
Itap the toeof my boot impatiently against the tiled floor of the immigration line in London. As soon as I got off the phone with Katy, I zipped my duffel bag and threw it in the truck. I didn’t have enough time to get on a direct flight from Austin to London, because I wouldn’t have enough time to drive to the airport, but I managed to find a domestic flight from Austin to Charlotte, and booked myself on the last flight of the day from Charlotte to London. The flight was an Air Albia one, and when I got to the gate, I found out that Amie had got me upgraded to premium economy, with extra leg room and sparkling wine on tap. I settled for water, though, and a cup of coffee strong enough to run both of the plane’s engines shortly before we landed.
It’s early as hell—and the middle of the night in Austin—but the arrivals hall in the airport is a hive of activity. Still, I have tunnel vision. My eyes zero in on a familiar face, one with long lashes, hazel eyes, and framed with dark curls. Amie. She starts walking the second I reach her.
“How is she?”
“Well, the lights are on.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The lights are on, but no one’s home. She’s alive. Awake. Vaguely responsive. She won’t talk to us, though. She’s still hardly said anything.”
I bite back a curse as Amie leads me through crowds of people, cutting left and dodging right like it’s a path she could take with her eyes closed. She probably could. One short bus ride later, we reach her car. It’s bigger than a lot of cars in the lot, but compared to the vehicles we drive in Texas, it’s tiny. I curl myself into the passenger seat and try not to watch as she drives on what feels like the wrong side of the too-small roads. It’s only a short drive to her house, where she quickly runs inside. I sit in the car in the driveway for a couple of minutes, and Cam and Maisy come out to visit me. Cam lifts Maisy to lean in through the open window.
