Page 56 of Loving Lauren
“No,” she said, louder than she meant to. “No, I would not. I want you.”
“I also saw you.” The words scraped. “With that guy. You hugged him. You left together.”
“Josh?” The name landed like a dropped plate. “He’s from my high school. I ran into him after a shoot. We grabbed lunch. He has a girlfriend he won’t shut up about. I told him I was in love with someone.”
“This is getting too messy.” Their voice tightened. “Too complicated. You need someone like Josh. Someone your family can accept.”
“I need you! Only you.”
“I love you too much to let you throw your life away for me.” Lauren’s voice cracked on the words.
Another stretch of silence. For a second she thought she heard a sound that might have been a swallowed sob. She reached for it like a rope.
“Lauren, please come over. Let’s talk where we can see each other. If you’re scared, say you’re scared. I can handle scared. I can handle messy. I’m right here.”
“Please don’t call me again,” they said, and the words were careful in a way that felt like a slap. “Please respect my wishes.”
The line clicked. The call screen disappeared. Sierra stood very still, phone hot in her hand. Then her knees gave, and the tile came up too fast. The phone skittered across the floor. She folded in on herself, palms pressed to her sternum like she could keep her heart from falling out.
For a moment, there was nothing. No air. No sound. Then her body remembered how to cry and it tore through her, loud and helpless. Salem hovered, uncertain, then pushed his head against her shoulder, a small, steady weight insisting she still existed.
She stayed on the kitchen floor until the light changed color on the cabinets. When the sobs finally thinned, the quiet did not feel like calm. It felt like a cliff. She crawled to her phone, stared at Lauren’s name in the recent calls, and did not press it.
She pulled herself up by the counter, wiped her face with the heel of her hand, and whispered to the empty room, “I don’t accept this. I don’t accept that this is all there is.”
The apartment did not answer. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed and faded. She picked up Salem and carried him to bed like he was the last soft thing left in the world. She lay there with his purr vibrating against her ribs and let the dark come, certain of only one thing.
Morning would happen anyway. And when it did, she would still love Lauren. She did not know what to do with that. She only knew it was true.
Chapter 32
The days after that phone call just ran together like spilled paint. Everything turned into an awful gray blur where nothing mattered.
She kept moving around, technically doing things, but it was like watching someone else live her life. She breathed, but never deeply enough. Even the air itself seemed to hurt.
The next morning, she woke up clutching her phone. Dead screen, cold as ice against her palm. She pressed it to her chest, where Lauren used to be, and felt absolutely nothing.
Everything was too quiet. She couldn’t deal with coffee. Didn’t shower. Didn’t even get dressed. She just sat on her bedroom floor with Salem pressed against her side, watching dust float in the sunlight coming through her blinds.
At some point, she reached for her camera out of habit. She lifted it, aimed at the shifting light, tried to focus on Salem’s whiskers. Her finger hovered on the shutter button, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it. The weight of the camera grewunbearable, so she set it back down as if it were something fragile that might shatter her if she touched it wrong.
Hours passed like this. The day moved on without her permission. The next one did, too.
Thalia called repeatedly. The phone buzzed and buzzed, its sound rattling through the silence. Sierra stared at it until the screen went dark again. She couldn’t even make her arm move to answer.
Four days later, she finally grabbed it. When she spoke, her voice sounded like sandpaper.
“Hey,” Thalia said immediately. “Thank God. You don’t have to say anything, okay? I just needed to know you were breathing. I’ll just stay on with you.”
And she did. For twenty-three silent minutes, Sierra sat on her bed, Salem tucked under her chin, listening only to her sister’s steady breathing on the other end.
Jonas texted.
Jonas:If you need some time off work, take it.
Sierra stared at the words for nearly an hour before her fingers finally managed to type back.
Sierra:No, that’s the last thing I need.
