“He wanted you to have a choice,” Star says quietly. “But secretly, I think he wanted you to choose not to. I don’t know. But that’s a best guess.”
“I didn’t take it!”
Finny covers my hand with hers. “Sweetie, apparently, he doesn’t know that.”
“You should tell him,” Peck says.
“You’re going to have to reach out to him. He’s hurt,” Star says.
“Yeah, well, he left me,” I remind them.
“He’s hurt,” Star says again.
I blink back my tears. So am I. More hurt than I’ve ever been by anything. I get up. “I’m going to take a shower. Thank you for the talk. You all can see yourselves out.” I turn toward my room, but then I turn back. “And, Lark, you can’t tell Ryan any of this. Not a single word. Do you understand?”
She doesn’t look at me, but she jerks a single nod of her head.
I go into my room and close the door. I’m about to step into the bathroom when the bedroom door flies open. It’s Star. And she’s pissed.
“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but I don’t give a fuck. If Mom and Dad were here…” Her eyes well up and she doesn’t even try to stop the tears from running onto her cheeks. She sucks in a breath. “Do you remember when you were trying to learn to ride a skateboard? Still don’t know why you thought you should do that, but anyway… You fell, and you scraped your elbows and knees, and you got road rash up the side of your leg? Remember?”
“Yes.”
“And Dad flipped the skateboard over and told you to ‘suck it up, buttercup’ and get back on it.”
“Yes.” I choke on a sob. She doesn’t talk about our parents often, because it just hurts too much. But in my head, I can see the tree-lined street and the sidewalk, and my mom standing there with her hand over her mouth, aching to run to me. But my dad held up a hand to stop her. “What’s it gonna be?” he’d said to me. “Are you going to quit, or are you going to get back on?”
“And you got right back on it. You didn’t even hesitate.” Star finally swipes her cheeks clear.
I nod, unable to speak.
“Well, suck it up, buttercup. Get back on.” She holds my face in her hands and steps onto her tiptoes to kiss my forehead, pulling my head down a little to do it. Her lips linger. “There,” she says, as she pretends she’s dusting my arm off. “My job here is done.” She wipes her cheeks again and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
I sit down on the edge of my bed and fall back. Because I know what I need to do now. I just don’t know how to do it.
* * *
Despite not knowing how I’m going to approach Mick, I know I have some questions I need to ask him and there are things that we need to talk about. That much I do know. I don’t wa
nt to lose him, and I can’t help but think that I already have. He needs to know that I didn’t take the pill. He needs to know that I want whatever may be, as long as he’s in it with me. He’s the deciding factor. He is what I need. Nothing else. No one else. So I assume that the first step will be finding out where he is today and when I can see him. I know where he works, but it would be rude to just show up there.
I text him really quickly and say, “I miss you already.”
Bubbles form on the screen, like he’s typing. Then they disappear. Then they appear again. Whatever reply he’s thinking of making doesn’t appear. I shove my phone in my pocket and take the elevator down to the lobby of my apartment building.
I’m surprised when I see Marcus standing in the lobby instead of Henry. “Good morning, Miss Vasquez,” he says.
“Good morning, Marcus. And please, I told you it’s just Wren.”
“Yes, Miss Vasquez,” he says with a grin.
“Where’s Henry?” I ask, looking around the room like he’s going to jump out of the nearest ficus tree.
“Oh, he’s still in the hospital.” He keeps working, sweeping the lobby, like he didn’t just say something important.
“Why is Henry in the hospital?” Surely someone would have told me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and sort through all my texts. Not a word from anybody. “Marcus?” I prompt when he doesn’t speak.
“He has pneumonia. Started with a cold, but at his age…”