Page 135 of The Way I Hate Him
“No, I’m good.”
She hands me the bag. “I’d say clean up the apartment and see what happens from there. If she does approach you, show her some fun. She needs to find herself again, and even though it pains me to say this, you might be the person to help her.”
“Okay.” I turn to walk away, but she calls out to me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks. “The apartment is that way.” She thumbs toward the back of the shop.
Right . . .
I head to the back and up the stairs to the apartment, where I open the door and take in the mess in front of me. The area rug is twisted up into a ball with dried blood splattered around the floor. One of the drawers on the dresser is crooked and broken, the chair in the corner is upturned, and pictures that once hung on the wall are broken on the floor.
Jesus.It’s a mess.
Kind of like me.
I’m a successful solo artist with a shitload of money to my name, but being back here has confirmed something I’ve partied and fucked to keep at bay.I’m a mess.Apart from Gran and Abel, I have no one else who gives a shit about me. And I’m not exactly surprised by that, either.
Maybe cleaning up this room reflects what’s needed in my life too.
Looks like I have my work cut out for me.
I’ve never shied away from hard work, though, and if Gran is right, repairing this room—repairing me—might be the bridge needed to also set things right with Hattie. Because I want that.
I want that with every piece of my heart.
ChapterSixteen
HATTIE
I stare up at the ceiling of Cassidy’s room, unmoving.
Not sure I’ve moved from this position in over a week, other than some food and bathroom breaks.
The moment I walked into Cassidy’s room, I was broken.
Just destroyed.
I spent hours crying on her bed, her scent surrounding everything I touched or looked at.
Her little trinkets around her room like the jewelry box I used to play with when I was a little girl, the same jewelry box Mac will play with. Her picture frames lined up along her dresser. Pictures of me and her at my high school graduation, where she told me how proud of me she was. Pictures of her and Mac when Mac was first born. A picture of all of us in front of The Almond Store with a now open sign in our hands.
Then there’s the quilt we made together with all our old T-shirts. The scrapbook I made for her of Mac’s first year of life. The table runners we found in an antique store on our trip to the redwoods. Her favorite perfume she only used for special occasions. And so many more things that I’ve just laid here and stared at, remembering, reminding myself of what a beautiful human she was and crying over the fact that it isn’t fair she was taken so soon.
But despite falling into a deep hole of depression, I’ve made dinner for Ryland and Mac every night until Ryland told me I didn’t have to anymore. When I asked him why . . . he said because he couldn’t eat one more burnt thing, and he meant that in the nicest way.
I couldn’t even argue. I struggled to eat my own food.
So now, as I lie here, staring up at the ceiling again, not helping with dinner, I try to think about what I should do with my life. And just like every other time I think about it, I’m blank. Because I’d have spoken to Cassidy about this. “I know you wanted me to finish school, Cass, but what then? You were meant to be here with me, lending your immeasurable wisdom into my life.What should I do next when breathing without you feels too utterly painful?”
My phone beeps to notify me of a text, pulling me out of my thoughts. I lift the screen up to see a text from Maggie. She’s been a freaking saint through all of this. She’s checked up on me every day, multiple times during the day, and has made me laugh. She’s listened and even used some tough love on me when Mac was complaining that I smelled at the dining room table.
The overnight delivery of hygiene products from Maggie pushed me right into the shower.
I open up her text.
Maggie:My bride for this weekend just told me she slept with the best man, and she was wondering if I could help break the news to her fiancé.
I flip to my stomach, relieved for the break in my thoughts.
