Chapter 61

I drive Harlow to school, then to work. We barely say a word to each other. I don't know what to say, because I still can't comprehend what she was doing in her bathroom the night before, and I don't know how to ask her. I don't know what words to use or how to use them, but I do know this: if it's anything like what happened to my father, then there's nothing I can do.

I couldn't save my dad, or my mom, or even my grandpa in the aftermath.

I can try, sure, but I know I'll fail, just like I did with them.

I drive Harlow home after work, the darkness around us mirroring my insides. I don't get out of the van, and neither does she. We just sit in silence, unmoving, unable to look at each other. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Jace."

Even though I was expecting this, my heart plummets to my stomach, creating an ache so visceral it makes it almost impossible to speak. I continue to stare out the windshield and ask, "This?"

"You and me," she says. "It's not working."

I swallow the knot in my throat, blink back the heat burning behind my eyes. My nose. And I whisper the words that have remained so prevalent in my mind over the past twenty-four hours. "I don't understand…"

"Jace…"

I keep my eyes ahead, not looking at her. "If this is about what I saw?—"

"It's not."

"I said I wouldn't tell anyone?—"

"That's not what this is."

"Did I do something wrong?"

I don't know if she's looking at me because I can't look at her. It'll hurt too fucking much, and I'm already in agony. "It's everything."

I lower my head, stare down at my lap.

"Being with you is more than I can handle right now. I can't deal with this level of instability anymore."

I finally face her, my eyes narrowed, and she must sense my confusion because she says, "Look, you fall asleep in my bed, and sometimes you're gone before I wake up. You don't tell me where you've been, just that you've got things to do. I assume it's about your grandpa, but you don't always tell me. Some days you go to my backyard before you even come to see me, like basketball is more important." She stops to take a breath, but she's not done yet. "Not to mention, you've literally physically pushed me away when I show I care about you, and you've never fully let me in. And sometimes, I talk to you, and it's like you're not listening. You just stare at me. Completely void of anything. I can't even tell if you're listening to me now!"

I am listening. To every single word she has to say. But I don't respond, because just like yesterday, when I saw what she was doing to herself, I don't know what to say.

How to act.

"Here," she says, and she's holding the bundle of cash between us.

I shift my gaze to the windshield again. "Keep it," I tell her, my voice barely audible. "You earned it."

She scoffs, muttering something under her breath before exiting and slamming the door shut on the van…

…and on us.