His head snaps up instantly. “Brit.”
I try to smile, but my lips tremble. “Told you I was fine.”
His face crumples. “Jesus, Brit, don’t— don’t joke right now.”
I glance away, tears prickling at my eyes.
The door swings open, and my mother breezes in, all sharp heels and sharper perfume.
“Thank God,” she huffs. “You’re awake.” She flicks a glance at Jasper. “Has the doctor been in? What did they say?”
“Malnutrition,” Jasper says quietly. “Exhaustion. Dehydration.”
My mother sighs dramatically, sinking into the chair beside my bed. “Brittany, what were you thinking?”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
“Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? The press already knows you were admitted — we had to spin some story about a stomach bug—”
“Mom,” Jasper warns softly.
She waves him off. “Honestly, Brit, I can’t keep saving you. Jasper can’t keep saving you.”
I close my eyes, a tear sliding down my cheek.
“Do you know what people are saying?” she continues. “They’re calling you a train wreck. They’re calling you washed up at twenty.”
“Mom, enough,” Jasper says sharply.
She huffs, standing. “I have a meeting. I’ll check on you later.”
When the door clicks shut behind her, the room feels impossibly quiet.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Jasper’s eyes soften, and he moves to the edge of the bed, taking my hand.
“Brit, you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I don’t know how to stop.”
He squeezes my fingers gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
But when his phone buzzes and I see Janice’s name flash on the screen, I know the truth.
I am not his priority anymore.
And I never will be again.
---
Late that night, as the nurses change my IV, I stare out the window at the glittering city lights.
Somewhere out there, Ace and Sierra are probably wrapped up in each other’s arms, laughing softly, warm and loved.
And I am here.
Alone.
