Unexpected

I should collect his mother’s things and whatever is in his room before it’s lost. With no one to pay the bills, someone is going to repossess everything they have. Or worse, someone from that neighborhood will ransack it.

I sit up with a start, terrified that Asher will literally lose everything he has. I never want to go back to that place, but I’ll never forgive myself if something important to him is stolen. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and force myself out of bed. The sun has set, casting dark shadows throughout the house.

“Oh,” Mom says, startled to see me when she turns around. “You're up. I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight.”

“I have to go.” I don’t sound like myself. My voice is husky and cracks from all the crying. My throat clenches, begging for a glass of water, but there’s no time. I have to get boxes and pack up everything I can find then get to the school to move Asher’s bike and… my thoughts trail off. I drove to Asher’s house. I left my car there. Where is my car?

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere.” Mom sets the stirring spoon on the counter. She crosses the kitchen to where I’m standing, then guides me to a kitchen stool.

I collapse into the chair and rest my face in my hands. I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought the tightness in my chest and the whirlwind of insecurity and hate I felt when Liam ended things between us was the worst of it. I was wrong. Those emotions are minuscule compared to this. My heart feels like it’s been put in a meat grinder. My chest is being squeezed in a tourniquet and my head feels like it’s about to explode. All of that paired with the tears that rarely stop flowing and the blanket of darkness that’s wrapped itself around me… yeah. Liam’s breakup was nothing.

“What’s going on, sweetie?” Mom’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from her own tears. Her makeup, which is usually a thin layer of eyeliner and mascara, has washed away. She looks older. Tired. “Where do you want to go?”

“I have to go get Asher’s stuff.” I’m trying to talk, but the tears start flowing and without meaning to, I'm yelling at mom. I take a breath to try and calm down but the air doesn’t fill my lungs. I take another and another, each one less effective than the last. Spots cloud my vision and, before I know it, I’m full on hyperventilating.

I don’t know when Mom got up and left me but at some point there are two small pills in my hand and a glass of water in front of me. “Drink,” she orders.

I toss the pills in my mouth and chase them with a sip. Within a few minutes, the pressure in my chest dissipates. My lungs fill with air and the brown spots clouding my vision disappear. Mom’s eyebrows are pulled together, worry wrinkled nestled between them. “When did you start having panic attacks again?”

I shrug, feeling embarrassed. Asher is sitting in a cold jail cell, taking the blame for what I did, probably thinking about how he’s become an orphan overnight, and I’m losing my shit. What is wrong with me? “I had one a few weeks ago before Asher started coming around. Besides that one, it’s been at least a year.”

Mom nods. It’s been a crazy, unexpected few weeks. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Liam would turn his back on me or that Asher would become the person I turned to the most. “Your dad has already taken care of Asher’s things. The house is a crime scene right now, but as soon as it’s cleared, he has a company ready to go in and pack everything that’s salvageable.”

“His motorcycle is at school, Mom. We have to go get it before someone steals it.”

“Sweetie.” Mom wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “Your dad has already thought of that. It’s safe in the garage.”

I sniffle, tears of relief ready to pour out of me again. “He’s thought of everything, hasn’t he?”

Mom chuckles and smooths my hair. “He has, including who will represent Asher in court.”

I pull back, feeling the color drain from my face. “Dad’s not Asher’s lawyer? No, he has to be.” He's the only one who can save Asher.

“Sweetie, your dad is a prosecutor. He can’t switch sides just because someone we know is in the hot seat.”

“So Dad will be the one pressing charges?”

Mom nods. “But don’t worry. Jeff Harris is the best defense attorney in the tri-county area. Between him and your dad, Asher will get a fair trial.”

“A fair trial? Mom, what are you talking about? I shot Clint. It was self-defense. Ballistics will show that. Asher shouldn’t even be on trial.”

“Honey." Mom pulls me into a hug and presses her hand on my head. "Asher insists he pulled the trigger. Whether or not it's true, that's the story he's chosen to tell. He has chosen to let you go to college and live your life. You should be grateful he loves you enough to do this."

I don't feel grateful.

I feel guilty.

“Holy shit! Your door is open!”

The world is blurry as I peel my eyelids open. My head hurts from another night of crying. My back aches from sleeping on the floor. And the sun, it’s bright. Too damn bright even with the shades drawn and the curtains pulled.

“Oh. My. Gosh. El, you look like shit.”

I vaguely recognize Maggie’s voice through the ringing in my ears. Fingers link themselves with mine and I’m pulled onto my unsteady feet. She brushes the hair from my face with her hand, her nose wrinkled in worry and probably disgust. I haven’t showered in days, not since the cops laughed in my face when I insisted I murdered Clint, not Asher. I probably smell as bad as I feel.

“Enough of this self-pity,” Maggie demands. “I know your mom thinks she’s doing the right thing by giving you space, but I disagree. It’s been ten days, Lainey.”

Ten days? That’s it? Funny how time moves. Sometimes a day lasts a lifetime, other times a week blurs into a few hours. I have no clue what day or time it is. I don't care. I just want to curl into a ball and go back to sleep. Guilt is a bitch, but depression is her mistress. I'd rather sleep than deal with the thoughts running through my head.