Though I can tell she’s not hungry, mostly, I get the feeling she’s tired.
I’m not surprised—I’m fucking wrecked. I like sex as much as the next guy, but she’s on me worse than poison oak through the night and then stares into space through the day. Ma says she comes up and finds her napping, but I think those bouts of sleep are few and far between.
I want her to reach out to me, want to help her talk about what happened, but I just fucking don’t know how. In my family, we don’t talk—wedo. But Belle’s not making that easy on me. I mean, that’s her right, but it just leaves me out in the cold, unsure of how to help her, uncertain of how to improve this disastrous situation that’s of my own making.
As I bring the mug to her lips, she turns her head to the side. Then, she nuzzles her face into my throat. When she kisses me there, I grumble, “Isabelle, eat the soup.”
“Youdrinksoup.”
“Eat it, drink it, I don’t care which verb so long as it ends up in your stomach and not down the garbage disposal again.” I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but when she starts pressing her lips to my throat, I state, “None ofthatuntil you’ve eaten.”
She huffs.
But shedrinksthe fucking soup.
I’ll take it as a win.
29
BELLE
“Cade, you awake?” I whisper into his neck and am rewarded with a mumble and his arms tightening around me, followed by the calming sounds of steady breathing.
I stare into the darkness.
My insomnia is back with a vengeance and, even with Cade fucking me exhausted, I can’t seem to shake it. I toss the covers off and reach for one of his T-shirts then walk into the other room to get my phone, which is charging.
Jesus,I have to talk to Cade. All I’m doing is trying to pretend that I’m fine when in truth, I’m struggling.
I grab my phone and sink onto his couch. The screensaver lights up, revealing Cade and me from before the whole “I killed my dad” time when we ordered pizza and he fed it to me. He’s laughing, showing off his dimples and golden brown hair. Absently, my fingers trace his face.
I lean my head into the soft cushions on his couch and turn to stare out the window. Morning light is arriving, accenting all the lights and sounds of New York beginning to stir for another day.
I don’t think I can cope with watching this again. I’m exhausted and it’s not getting better.
Maybe thingscan’tget better here.
Maybe I need to go back to Los Angeles…?
The thought lifts a weight off my chest that I didn’t know was there, and it’s suddenly easier to breathe.
I’ve been so scared about calling them, sharing another mess I made with them, but I can’t heal here. I need Charlie and my tribe and, for the first time in our friendship, I need to open up to them. Then, they’ll understand. I know they will.
My hand tightens on my phone as I make my decision.
When I glance at his bedroom door, my heart aches, but this is the right thing to do for me. Even though I’ve let him have my body… I guess my mind hasn’t forgiven him yet.
He lied.
And Cade doesn’t talk about the future, which makes me feel insecure. The only time he told me he loves me was when he yelled that hethoughthe was “falling in love” with me to Lucas that one day, but other than that, nothing.
I rub my poor, tired eyes, wishing I could let go and sleep, but my mind can’t seem to stop. It just races like a hamster on a wheel, over and over, replaying things that I need to let go of.
A week.
It’s been seven whole days of sleeplessness since I killed my father, and everyone goes along like they’re fine, as if I’m one of them, but I’m not. Would it be better if Cade claimed me? I don’t know, but he hasn’t, and I’m left feeling like I’m in limbo.
Sighing, I sit up and look down at my screen. 4:01 am. Too early to text Charlie, but I’m sure she’ll have her phone on silent.