The words die on her lips as she starts to breathe heavily, falling into a deep sleep. I let out a laugh, lifting my head to see Lucas standing at my door.
He runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together. “I um… I should go,” he gestures to the door with his thumb. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, glancing down at Gabi.
I nod, even though something weird happens in my chest at the thought of him leaving. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I lick my lips, glancing up at him. “Thanks again. I know I’m hard to be around.” My eyebrows knit together. “Not everyone would stay to look after someone they don’t like.”
He turns his body to face me, brows furrowed. “You’re not hard to be around at all, Madeline. You just have to let someone in.” My lips part at his words and he gives me a smile. “I’ll see you,” he says before he leaves my room. I hear the front door close, and I know he’s gone.
“Madi?”
I glance down at Gabi. “Yeah, it’s me. Want to go to bed now?” I ask her.
She nods, eyes cracking open. “You had that interview today, right? How was it?”
“I didn’t go, I um… I was sick.” The words taste funny in my mouth. I don’t get sick. I make sure of it. I take care of my body, I take so many damn vitamins, and I’ve even started drinking those green smoothies Leila likes so much.
Gabi’s eyes widen. “Are you okay?” she says, lifting herself off the bed. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to make you some soup?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No,” I tell her. “I’m good, Lucas made me some.” Good thing, too, because this girl has never cooked a day in her life. The kitchen would likely catch on fire.
“Come on,” I tell her. “You need to sleep.” Especially because Gabi has two modes when she drinks. Party animal and dead asleep. And she’s, without a doubt, heading toward the latter right now.
She manages to drag herself out of my bed, and walks out of my room, mumbling to herself. When the door closes, I shuffle back beneath the covers and close my eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. But the same seven words repeat themselves over and over in my head.
You just have to let someone in.
Chapter 17
Is it safe?
I’m sick.
There, I admit it.
I felt awful yesterday, and this morning, it seems to be worse. I can’t stop coughing, sneezing, and wishing there was more of that chicken soup. It hasn’t even been a whole twenty-four hours since I last saw Lucas, and I’m already wondering when I’ll see him next.
The sound of my phone ringing on my nightstand startles me, and my heart races. Is that him? But when I see the name on the screen, my shoulders drop in disappointment.
“Hi, Mom,” I say into the phone.
“Darling. You sound terrible.”
I laugh. “Thanks.” A cough forces itself out of my throat, making my face twist in pain. “I’m just a little sick.”
She lets out a sigh. “If you weren’t so far away, I would come over to help you.”
I had a great childhood. My parents and I were always close, especially when I was a kid, and my dad used to give me piggyback rides everywhere we went. I will always be grateful for them for giving me the family and life I wouldn’t have if they never chose me that day.
But then Nia died. And the bond I felt with them was gone. They became more distant, and even though I had never felt like that before, I stopped feeling like their daughter. I felt like I was in the way, like they had lost their real daughter, and I was all that was left.
It’s a horrible thought to have because they have always loved me, but I always tried so hard to be the perfect daughter for them. Nia gave them trouble sometimes, sneaking off with guys and being late for curfew, but she was their daughter. She was allowed to do that.
I, however, did everything possible not to give them any trouble. But once Nia died, it felt like nothing I did was good enough, like I wasn’t good enough. I feel like a piece of our relationship died the day she did.
“I’m okay, Mom, I promise.” I pull the covers higher, my body freezing cold. “How’s dad?”
“Good, you know your father. Busy with work.” And for good reason. My parents worked hard for what they got, resulting in them being the first generation of their family to go to college.
“What about you?” she asks. “Studying hard, I assume?”
