Page 129 of PS: I Hate You
Until he’s gone, and I don’t even have his written words to comfort me.
A dry sob chokes out of my throat. No tears come, but I start coughing and wheezing, struggling to inhale through my grief and loneliness and fury.
How dare Dom keep Josh from me?
As the sharp ache of unfulfilled breaths stabs at my chest, I scramble for my inhaler.
Even though my hands shake, I manage to spray the medication into my airways. But recovery is slow and painful. Especially with no one here to distract me or comfort me or simply reassure me that I’m not alone.
But that’s exactly what I am. What I always seem to be.
Alone.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
I arrived home from North Dakota a week ago and haven’t gone much of anywhere since, other than my bed and my couch. When Pamela texted me to come into work, I replied that I was sick. I’m still working, though. Doing the bare minimum needed to keep the company from collapsing in on itself.
If I had trained someone on my job, I could take time off to mourn.
The mocking thought fills my stomach with sickening guilt. What is wrong with me? I’m more seriously considering a break from work due to Dom and me imploding than I did when my brother passed away.
I’m a mess. A wreck. And I still haven’t cried.
With all the aimless drifting my mind and body take part in, I might as well be a ghost living in Vulture City.
A pounding knock on my door jerks me from a half-sleep state. I unearth myself from the mound of blankets I entombed myself in sometime after finishing my last work task. Submitting data reports drains me in a way it didn’t used to.
All I want is to sleep and not dream.
The knock comes again, and I glance at the oven clock, which tells me it’s just past seven. I slept for two hours. This has become a habit lately. Spending my evenings either asleep or in a groggyhalf-conscious state. Waking up just enough to go eat something, go through my nightly routine, then tuck myself into my bed and attempt to sleep some more.
Another knock.
“Coming,” I shout, my voice croaky.
Jeremy is going to want fancy cheese. As I push to my feet, I try to remember the last time I went to the store. I’m not sure I even have a basic cheddar.
I’ll need to distract him before he asks. He’ll know something is wrong if he finds out I don’t have cheese. Then he’ll pry. Jeremy will find a way to make me admit what I did. That I blew up at the guy I kept secret from my friends. That I tore into the man I was falling in love with—again—the minute he messed up.
I’ll have to say it all out loud.
Have to face what I knew from the start but tried to forget: Dom and I will never work.
Maybe I can convince Jeremy we’re better off ordering takeout.
“I don’t…” I start speaking the moment I pull open the door, but my words trail off when I realize the person on the other side isn’t my dairy-mooching friend.
Adam Perry stares at me, concern creasing his forehead as his eyes take me in. “Hell, Maddie. You look like—”
A sharp cough cuts him off, and I realize both twins are on my doorstep. Carter slips around Adam and offers a soft smile. “Hey, Maddie. You look tired. Did we wake you up?”
“Uh…yeah.” Dazed, I flick my eyes between the two Perry boys and wonder if I’m still dreaming. “You’re here. In Seattle.” Look at me, stating the obvious. But a part of me wonders if I did fall asleep in my blanket pile and I’m living out an odd dream.
“We wanted to see you,” Adam explains.
“Can we come in?” Carter asks. “Or take you out for food?”