Page 79 of The Wreckage of Us

He hung up the phone, and a few minutes later, my phone dinged with a text message.

Ian:Here’s a bit of reading material for the next time you’re sitting on the toilet.

Following the message were five articles about how one was supposed to hang their toilet paper over versus under.

Hazel:I could find you an article online about how Bigfoot is real, too, if you’re interested. And the truth about Santa Claus.

Ian:Big Foot is real. As is Santa Claus. You should really start believing everything you read on the internet. Like, right now there’s an article going around saying I have a massive cock. Believe in that, Hazel.

Don’t you worry, Ian. I have enough proof of my own on that subject.

Hazel:Massive is in the eye of the beholder.

Ian:I welcome you to behold it with your eyes when I see you again.

I smiled.

Hazel:Go to sleep, weirdo.

Ian:Haze?

Hazel:Yes?

Ian:You know what I’m thinking right now?

Hazel:Yes, and me too.

Ian:Good. Good night.

I knew his thoughts, even though he never said it straight out.

I love you too, Ian Parker.

Before I fell asleep, I turned on Spotify and put the Wreckage’s songs on replay to help me fall asleep. Even though I didn’t know when I’d see Ian again, I was already counting down the days until our reunion. And just like every other girl around the world, I pretended the love songs were written for me.

The next morning, I awakened to my phone receiving a text message. I hurried to answer it, thinking it was Ian, but it wasn’t. Garrett’s name flashed on the screen.

Garrett:Kid came early. In something called NICU. Not looking so hot.

Mind spinning, I scrambled to my feet. My chest was rising and falling as I tossed on some clothes and headed out of my bedroom, writing Garrett back.

Hazel:What hospital?

Garrett:St.Luke’s. About three hours from town.

Hazel:Are you and your mom there?

Garrett:Nah. Had no gas money this week.

Hazel:On my way.

Garrett:They probably won’t let you near.

Hazel:She’s my sister. I’m on my way.

Garrett:Figured you might want to know—we aren’t taking the kid in.

What?