Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Dedication
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- RESOURCES
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
I gulp the air because I can’t breathe, I can’t get a deep enough breath, and the world starts to spin, and I’m 200 percent positive that I’m going to suffocate in this moment, that this is the end, and if it is, I can’t even care.
ideserveit
“Ridley,” she says. “Bats.” And I look up, because I didn’t think that was going to be a word that I heard from her ever again. “Did you know that a cat’s nose print is unique like our fingerprints?”
“No?” I choke out. The world seems to spin a little slower as I look in her eyes, but I can’t quite trust it.
“Swear to god.”
She looks at me from under the awning, and it feels like I can maybe inhale just a little. “Who tested that theory?” I ask.
And when she laughs, it feels like breaking through the surface of the water.
“Somebody really brave.” She smiles, but then it fades. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t—” I huff and then look at the ground, shaking my head. I have no idea where to start.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asks, the hint of annoyance back in her voice. “I’ve been texting you this whole time. I even told you about . . . you.”
“I know.”
“Is this a game?” Her tone changes again. Gets harder somehow.
“No, it’s not.”
“Okay? Then why did you let me keep thinking you were two different people?”
“I’m an asshole,” I say, raising my arms and then dropping them. “I don’t know what else to say. I was scared.”
“Scared of me?”
“No, of not being able to text with you anymore. And—”
“And what?”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “But there are reasons, okay? And I will tell you, but I can’t right now. I can’t do this. I’ll—I’ll text you.”
“Uh-uh, you don’t get to run away. Not after this. This is unbelievably screwed up.”
“I know. I know! But what if you—”
“What if I what?” she asks, taking a step forward so she’s as far out as she can be under the awning without getting wet.
“I’m not good at talking to people. I’m not good at a lot of things. But when I’m texting Peak—you,” I correct myself. “When I text you, I don’t get freaked out. I can relax. I can be there for you or be funny. And if I do get overwhelmed, I can just put the phone down and come back later. I didn’t want to lose that. And I didn’t want to know.”
“Know what?”