Rhys wants to take things from me that I absolutely can’t give him.
“You’ve already slept with me.” My voice is purposely void of any emotion, and although his face remains calm, I know I’ve managed to cut him. It’s obvious by how quickly his stare turns frigid. “You have enough.”
And he does. Because now that I think about it—and even though he’s yet to realize it—I’ve already lost with Rhys Delane. It just took me this long to figure that out.
“Come back to bed. Come back to me,” he implores softly, his touch even gentler when he comes across the room to pull me to him. I don’t fight him. I can’t. Because it goes back to that thing about everything changing with sex—now that I realize I’m lost, I don’t even stand a chance.
And because in some messed up, awful way, Rhys and I need each other—we’re both stuck in a repetitive loop, blaming ourselves for things we no longer have the power to change.
Chapter Nineteen
Two Years Ago
Ever since the bus dropped me off two hours ago, I’ve been telling myself that in just five more minutes I’m going to start my trig homework. Instead, I spent an hour of that time screwing off on Facebook, another thirty minutes making two new playlists, and then the other half hour on the phone with my friend Sophie. At this point, I’m about 99.9 percent sure no productivity will be happening on the school front tonight, so I shove my textbook and untouched worksheet back inside my backpack and drop the bag in my closet.
“Everlasting Light,” the ringtone I’ve assigned to my boyfriend James starts playing, and I answer with a wide grin. “You in Kingsport yet?” He was supposed to be riding to a nearby town to look at a car this afternoon, and I didn’t expect to hear from him until late tonight.
“Change of plans,” he informs me, and I raise my eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “Can you distract your mom long enough for me to come in through the basement?”
Grinning, I let out an excited shriek, and I’m already nodding before I say, “When will you be here?”
“Give me fifteen?”
“Alright, I’m going downstairs right now,” I promise. As soon as I hang up, I check my hair in the mirror hanging over my dresser, dousing the unruly locks with frizz tamer. The sound of my phone going off again stops me before I can put my hair into a ponytail holder, and I press my lips into a tight line as I listen to OneRepublic’s “All the Right Moves”—the ringtone I’ve set for my sister.
What the hell does she want?
I almost don’t answer her call, but then I release an irritated sigh, sink down in my computer chair, and hit Accept.
“What?” I answer sharply. I can barely hear what she’s saying because the only noise coming from the other end is that of wind, and I jab my tongue in my cheek. “Can you not call me when you’re out running? Speaking of which, why are you still running? Isn’t your meet already over?”
The fussy noise slowly fades away, and then I hear Lily breathing heavily. “I’m not running, I’m walking,” she explains. “Hey, can you do me a favor and come get me? I was supposed to get a ride home with Meredith, but she didn’t show up to school today.” My sister’s own car had been in the body shop at my dad’s dealership for the last couple days, and she’s been relying on rides from her friends to get home.
“I’m grounded from my car, remember?” I tell her dryly. “So unless you want me to borrow Mom’s bike to come get you, I think you’re screwed.” Of course, we both know very well that our mom would gladly hand my keys over when it comes to Lily.
In Mom’s eyes, Lily can do no wrong.
“Don’t be like that, Evie,” my sister says gently, and I feel a pang of guilt for being so rude to her. “I didn’t mean to tell her. It just ... happened.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I check the time on my alarm clock. “You know, I wouldn’t have sold you out.” Closing my laptop and getting up, I shrug. “But it is what it is. Should I tell Mom to come pick you up? Or better yet, why don’t you just jog since you like running so damn much?”
She seems to think on both of my suggestions for a second before dragging in a deep breath. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just walk—it’s not that far.”
“Exactly,” I say, “you’ll be fine.”
Lily laughs softly, and I can imagine she’s shaking her head right now. “I love you, beautiful sister. Even if you are being a baby right now. I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”
Whatever. Rolling my eyes, I hang up. Then I leave my phone face down on my desk to go downstairs and distract my mother while James sneaks in.
Chapter Twenty
Now
The second “anniversary” of my sister’s death comes almost too quietly, and I leave Rhys’ apartment as soon as the first strains of light peek through his bedroom window. Although I know I’ll probably spend the majority of my fall break with him, this is the only day that I reserve exclusively for myself. He’s grieving too—I saw that much in his eyes last night as he held me close to him. Still, I can’t quite trust myself to be with him today when the only thing I’ll be able to think about is Lily.
It would be unfair to them both.
For the umpteenth time in the last several months, I reactivate my social media accounts but this time with the sole purpose of hunting down photos of my sister. My Facebook page is full of pictures of me with my friends, and I feel a pinch in my chest as I realize that I haven’t spoken to many of these people in months, haven’t even given them a second thought. But that pain in my heart—it’s nothing compared to the raw, desperate ache that encompasses me when I realize that I only have three pictures with my sister.
Just three, and in two of those we weren’t even focused toward the camera.
“What the hell was wrong with me?” I ask myself aloud in the emptiness of my room.
My hands are shaking as I click on her old page. She stares back at me from her profile picture, her dark blond hair tousled and flipped over her shoulder, her index finger held beneath her nostrils with a moustache drawn on it with a Sharpie. She’s intentionally making a duck face, and I vividly remember the day she asked me to take the photo.
“You look like an idiot,” I’d told her as I took her phone from her outstretched hand, and she grinned before resuming her ridiculous expression.
“That’s the point. Now, hurry up and take it before my lips go numb.”
As agonizing as it is, the memory still manages to bring a smile to my lips as I scroll through all the recent posts on her Wall from people who knew her, who haven’t forgotten her. Who’ve hung on to those memories she made with them. Reading these posts only make me miss her that much more.
I startle when I hear a loud ding. Dropping my gaze to the bottom of the screen, I cringe. James has sent me a message.
James Rowan: Hey, Evie ... I saw you were on—it’s been awhile. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from today, but I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I miss Lily too. No matter what happened between us, I am always around if you need me. You take care of yourself.
He probably expects for me to flat out ignore him, but I’m feeling sentimental today. My reply is quick and simple—Thank you, James. You take care of yourself too. Then I turn off chat because there’s really no point in saying anything more.
After I turn on some music, I slowly start the process of going through Lily’s photos. There are so many folders and tags that I nearly miss the folder titled ME & E.V. I open it, feeling a fist grinding inside my ribcage as pictures of us smile back at me. She’d posted a little of everything—the two of us fully decked out in winter gear and covered in snow during the ski trip we took during freshman year; a picture of me flipping off the camera with Lily giving me the side eye; a photo of us at junior prom taken just five months before she passed away.