Page 180 of When We Fall: Part Two
“I think you’re probably a decent guy. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re dealing with this shit. We’ll talk soon.”
“Thanks.”
We disconnected the call, and I closed my eyes.
When the fuck did everything decide to fall apart?
I wasn’t so sure I could fix any of it, and it was breaking my damn heart.
FIFTY-FIVE
ETHAN
Iscreamed so loud I woke myself. I blinked rapidly as reality set in.
I wasn’t in the underground anymore. I was home. Safe. Celeste wasn’t on my dick. I wasn’t getting railed in my ass. No one was torturing Fox.
I kicked off my covers and sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands for a long time before getting up and going downstairs.
Once in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and frowned at the lack of food. Rosalie always cooked and left food for us. She hadn’t done it since I’d been back.
In fact, I hadn’t seen her in over a week. All I knew was that she had left overnight, and no one knew where she was.
“Are you hungry?” Rosalie’s soft voice called out.
I turned to find her sitting in the dark at the table, holding a mug in her hand. I hadn’t seen her when I’d come in, but why would I? The lights were out.
We hadn’t spoken in weeks. I missed her terribly. I hated the feelings in my chest as I stared back at her through the dim light over the sink.
“I, um, I’m fine,” I mumbled.
She didn’t move or press me. She simply continued to sit, holding her drink. If I had to guess, it was hot chocolate. She always drank hot chocolate at night.
Without contemplating what I was doing, I shuffled over and sat across from her.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Terrible. How are you?”
“Same.”
We were both quiet for a moment before she spoke.
“I have extra hot chocolate if you want some.”
“I-I would,” I answer in a quiet voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
She said nothing and got up. I didn’t move. Instead, I sat at the table staring at my hands in front of me. She shuffled around and made some noise. Moments later, she was sliding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of me and a mug of hot chocolate.
She returned to her seat and sipped her hot chocolate.
“Thank you,” I whispered, grateful for her.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured.
I ate while she continued to drink, neither of us speaking. When I finished my sandwich, I took a drink of the hot chocolate.
“You’ve always made good hot chocolate,” I commented. I stared down at my hands again as she remained quiet.
