Page 126 of The Publicity Stunt
April’s face twists in hurt.
“Parker,” Shara tries chiming in. I ignore her. I don’t really know why I’m saying all these things to April. What happened, happened to all of us, but that doesn’t mean we’re all going to process it in the same way. I could lose a hundred Logans and Shara could lose a hundred more, and it would still affect April in a way that neither of us can fathom. She lost her parents in a car crash. She might not remember them, but she does remember the crash. This hits hard for her. I know that. Then why am I not being nice to her? Why am I being such a fucking asshole? I’m making it all worse. But I can’t stop. The words won’t stop.
“You keep saying you don’t need me,” I scoff. “Really? You really think you don’t need me, April? Well, guess what, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be—”
“Parker,stop.” Shara raises her voice.
The whole room is bathed in silence.
Fuck.
“April, I didn’t mean—”
“Finish your sentence,” she whispers. My fingers are still wrapped around her other hand and I draw them in. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be alive.”
“April …”
“You think I don’t know that?” Tears fall down her face. “You think I don’t know that? If it wasn’t for me, then maybe Logan would still be alive.”
Before either of us can react to her words, a sharp ringing comes from her purse. Her phone. She takes it out and cuts the call.
It rings again.
She cuts it again.
I’m being a dick right now, and so fucking hypocritical, but I need to get out of here.
I need to get out of here before I say the wrong thing again.
“Pick up the damn call, April. I need some air.” I storm out the door.
Shara follows me.
* * *
By the time I get back home, it’s five in the morning. I spent the night at Shara’s. We just talked. I would never fucking do that to April. No matter what.
As soon as I open the apartment door, something seems off. I head into our room. The bed is a mess. A few things are scattered here and there. April’s unicorn hat is peeking out from underneath her pillow.
My first thought is,have we been robbed?
My second thought is,where is April?
My stomach drops.
“April!” I rush to the bathroom, only to find it empty. “Chere!” No, no, no. I bolt out and something on the dining table catches my eye.
April’s ring.
Resting on top of a piece of paper.
An envelope.
A letter.
Dear Parker,
It’s three in the morning right now. My eyes hurt from crying and my head feels like someone just threw a bag of bricks at it. I don’t know how to say everything I want to say in a letter, but I’m going to try.
