Chapters (61)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ONE DANNI
- TWO ROSE
- THREE DANNI
- FOUR DANNI
- FIVE ROSE
- SIX ROSE
- SEVEN DANNI
- EIGHT ROSE
- NINE DANNI
- TEN ROSE
- ELEVEN ROSE
- TWELVE ROSE
- THIRTEEN ROSE
- FOURTEEN DANNI
- FIFTEEN DANNI
- SIXTEEN ROSE
- SEVENTEEN DANNI
- EIGHTEEN ROSE
- NINETEEN ROSE
- TWENTY DANNI
- TWENTY-ONE DANNI
- TWENTY-TWO DANNI
- TWENTY-THREE ROSE
- TWENTY-FOUR ROSE
- TWENTY-FIVE DANNI
- TWENTY-SIX ROSE
- TWENTY-SEVEN DANNI
- TWENTY-EIGHT ROSE
- TWENTY-NINE ROSE
- THIRTY DANNI
- THIRTY-ONE DANNI
- THIRTY-TWO ROSE
- THIRTY-THREE DANNI
- THIRTY-FOUR ROSE
- THIRTY-FIVE ROSE
- THIRTY-SIX DANNI
- THIRTY-SEVEN ROSE
- THIRTY-EIGHT DANNI
- THIRTY-NINE ROSE
- FORTY DANNI
- FORTY-ONE ROSE
- FORTY-TWO DANNI
- FORTY-THREE ROSE
- FORTY-FOUR DANNI
- FORTY-FIVE ROSE
- FORTY-SIX ROSE
- FORTY-SEVEN DANNI
- FORTY-EIGHT ROSE
- FORTY-NINE ROSE
- FIFTY ROSE
- FIFTY-ONE ROSE
- FIFTY-TWO DANNI
- EPILOGUE ROSE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Also by Sophie Gonzales
- Praise Page
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“No,” I insist. “I mean, I just … collapsed inward. You needed to talk about that night and I just … I—I couldn’t. It was like I was short-circuiting.”
“I understand.”
“It wasn’t normal. Every time I tried to think about it—and I mean every single time, Molly—the channel changed. I completely abandoned you, and you were in so much pain, and I felt nothing.”
Molly’s eyes are glassy, and she arches her neck to stare at the ceiling.
“You should still hate me,” I say with conviction. Molly climbs onto the bed, and I realize with a surge of revulsion at myself that she means to reassure me. “Don’t,” I gasp, sitting up with a start. “It’s not your job to comfort me.”
It was real.
The fact settles somewhere in my throat, and I have the sensation of being strangled from the inside. When I finally manage to force the breath from my lungs, it comes out in a thin sob—a sound I wasn’t expecting at all. I raise my hand as though to muffle myself, but it settles on my collarbone, and I hunch over as I gasp for another breath. For the first time, my mind allows me to understand that I watched my friend die, and he’s never coming back. I’m here in the moment, feeling all of it, and it weighs too much to stand under.
Molly touches my arm, but I shake her off. “No.”
“For me,” she insists. I drop my arm back to my side and allow her to wrap her own around me. We’re stiff for a moment, and then, together, we fold into our center, her fingers digging into my back like talons. I’m crying, I think, although it isn’t how I’ve seen others cry. Mine is more of a series of anguished, tearless breaths, punctuated by whines. Molly has tears—tears have always come easily enough to her—and they dampen my shoulder where she rests her head.
“I don’t want to feel this,” I whimper.
“I know,” she says.
Though tears do come easily to her, it’s been months since I’ve seen her cry over Oscar. She was healing, and now look at what I’ve done.
“I’m sorry,” I manage between breaths. “I’ve brought it all up again.”
Molly shakes her head and pulls me in tighter. I am enveloped, pinned in place. Anchored. “No,” she says. “It’s the first time I haven’t cried alone.”