I stumble in my anger. A part of me does know that he’s always been more protective of me, but I’m having a hard time reconciling that side of him with the one that just walked out the door.
“That’s hard to believe when he would never leave you behind,” I snap.
She drags a hand down her face in frustration. “He loves you, Hailey. I’m sure he thought he had a good reason—”
At that one word, all the fight goes out of me. And I’m just left exhausted. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I interrupt. “I just want to go to bed.”
For a moment, it looks like she’s going to fight me on this and attempt to force me to talk more about it, but she must see something on my face that lets her know it would be a fruitless battle. She nods and stands up off the couch.
“I’ll leave you alone. Just… let me know when you want to talk about it.” She grabs the bag that she dropped at the door when she came in and makes her way toward her bedroom. But before she walks through the doorway, she pauses and lifts her gaze to mine, guilt shining clear as day in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers brokenly. “I never want you to be unhappy. If this is my fault, I’m so sorry.” There are tears shining in her eyes when she looks away, but I can’t bring myself to reassure her right now. I just stare after her sullenly.
Realizing I’m not going to say anything, she walks into her bedroom. At the sound of her door shutting a breath whooshes out of me, as if I can finally let some of the pressure in my chest ease.
But it doesn’t do anything for the pain. I feel like I can finally let myself go, to do whatever feels natural now that I’m by myself, but it doesn’t lessen the feel of my soul bleeding out on every breath.
I curl up on the couch and succumb to my thoughts and feelings. I let every confused, frustrated, angry thought blow through my mind.
For the rest of the night, I lay curled in a ball on my makeshift bed, and let myself get dragged down into the pain.
* * *
Although my rare two-day break from work does end up being beneficial, it’s not nearly as enjoyable as I was anticipating. Instead of spending it with Jax—cooking together, laughing about childhood memories and making new ones, getting lost in each other between the sheets—it’s spent on shitty food and trash TV used only to distract me.
I don’t speak a word. Remy tries to get me to engage with her, but I barely give her more than a grunt of acknowledgement. Even those are scarce. I’m wallowing and I know it, but I’m feeling betrayed by the two most important people in my life and I can’t dredge up the energy to even attempt to fix it.
By the time I go back to work on Tuesday, I have a stoic face that even Tristan would be proud of.
And I realize that Jax may have been onto something when he said I’m able to compartmentalize my work self from the rest of my life—because despite the hurt still festering inside me, you would never be able to tell by looking at me.
I plaster my customer service mask on and go through the motions. For days. I give my employees and my customers the same level of attention that they would’ve received on any other week. And when Stacey pulls me aside on Friday and asks if I’ve thought any more about her offer, I tell her the truth: that I’m in the middle of an existential crisis that only a 21-year-old could go through and still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, with both school and the café.
“Keep thinking,” she tells me. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t think you were both ready and meant for this.”
Her honesty is what leads me back to the conversation I had with Jax about it. I turn his words over and over in my brain as I finish out my shift, to the point that I’m so distracted by my own thoughts, I don’t even notice Remy walk into the café.
“We’re closed,” I call over my shoulder, lifting the last chair onto the table.
When I don’t hear anything in response, I turn toward the door, ready to take out my frustration on whatever idiot customer can’t read a goddamn sign.
But when I see my sister standing by the host stand, hands clasped nervously and her expression pleading, my anger deflates.
I don’t say anything, I just wait for her to tell me why she’s here. We’ve barely spoken all week. On the nights that she’s not at the gym, I bury my nose in my computer and ignore every attempt at conversation that she throws at me.
But I’m tired of fighting with my sister. We’ve never gone through something like this and the distance is starting to wear on me. Subconsciously, I know the breakup isn’t her fault, but it was hard to look at her and know that her comment to Jax played a part in his leaving me.
I miss my sister. My resolve has already weakened enough this week, so when she asks if I want to get a drink and talk, I nod without a second thought.
“Just let me finish closing. I’ll be done in ten minutes.”
She nods and lets me continue working. By the time I’ve got the key in my hand ready to lock up, the silence has grown to an uncomfortable level. Which is saying something because I’ve never been a big talker.
“Let’s just go down the street,” she says, breaking the silence. “It’ll still be slow enough for us to find someplace to sit.”
I nod and follow her into the restaurant.
Remy leads us straight to the bar, where she orders a sour IPA, just like I knew she would.