THE EARLY MORNING light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom causing me to stir. Subconsciously, I think to myself that I’d forgotten to close the blinds as I slowly wake, and I realize I’d actually slept.
My thoughts instantly drift to Zach. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.
Love isn’t something you can just stop feeling. Even if it’s not meant to be, you can’t just turn it off.
I still love him.
It was hard letting him go when all I wanted to do was call him and tell him everything that was happening. I wanted to hear his voice.
There have been times when I almost asked Cole or Zach’s Uncle Cam, about Zach, but I was afraid to hear about him being with someone else.
Someone who wasn’t me.
Maybe I should just call him.
A rhythmic knock saves me from inner turmoil as my bedroom door swings open and Cole walks in. “By all means, come in,” I say sarcastically.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he quips before falling on my bed. Rolling to his side, he props his head on the palm of his hand. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile sadly. “One day at a time, right?”
“I guess.” He exhales loudly, rolling to his back and tucking his hands behind his head. “Do those things still glow?” He jerks his chin toward the plastic stars on the ceiling above my bed.
I snort. What’s with everyone and their fascination with plastic stars? “I have no idea. I doubt it. They’ve been up there for over ten years.”
“Well” —he pushes himself up from the bed— “I was sent to tell you that your presence is required downstairs for family breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry,” I murmur.
“Jay—”
“Cole.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his gaze. It’s the Mackenzie blood in our veins that makes us so stubborn. “Jay, it’s been three days. Get your skinny ass out of this bed and come downstairs. Seriously, Jay, I love you but you look like a Pez dispenser. It’s not a good look for you.”
I gasp. “I do not!” I probably do but… shit. The stress of watching the most important man in my life, my world—the man who gave me life—spend the last six months fighting for his own life and losing had taken its toll on my body. I can’t help it that I don’t have an appetite. I’m not starving myself. I eat. Just not as much as I used to.
“You do. You’re too skinny and your head looks too big for your body.”
“That’s pretty harsh, Cole,” I say. “Even for you.”
“Just keeping it real.” Cole sits back down on the edge of my bed, one leg tucked under him and the other on the floor as he shifts to face me. “Listen, Jay. You know I love you. I know this has been hard for you. It’s been hard on all of us. I can’t imagine how much hurt you feel right now. If I lost my dad….” He lets his words hang in the air and shakes his head. Tears pool in my eyes. “You’re grieving and as your family, it’s our job to take care of you. And that includes feeding you. Now get your ass up and let us do our jobs.”
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I lean over and pull him in for a hug. “You’re such a dick, but I love you.”
Cole huffs. “Yeah, well, you can be a butthole sometimes too.”
I snort a laugh and pull back. “Butthole? What are you, five?”
He smiles. “I’m trying to curb my language. Willow repeats every fucking thing I say.”
“And ‘butthole’ is an acceptable word for a toddler?” I ask through another laugh. “Oh, my God. Can you imagine her saying ‘butthole’ in that cute little voice?”
“No.” He laughs, standing up from the bed and holding out his hand. “Come on, Pez dispenser.”
I slap his hand away.
“With tits,” Lucas adds from the doorway. He ducks, laughing when I chuck my pillow at his head.
Falling back on my bed, I poke out my bottom lip. “You guys are so mean.”
“It’s called tough love,” Cole says, grabbing one of my arms. “Bobblehead.”
I snort. “I hate you both.”
“You’re still beautiful, Jay,” Lucas says, reaching for my foot. Together they pull me from the bed. “Now come on,” Cole adds. “Everyone’s waiting on you and I’m starving.”
“I still think you’re both mean, but I’ll admit that was a good one. Expect payback, butthole,” I drawl, following them from the room. “Hey, Willow—”
“Don’t you freaking dare, Jay.”
“JAY,” LUCAS WHISPERS.
“Hmm?” I hum into my pillow.
“Come on, little sis, you need to wake up and move around. You’ve been in this bed for a week.” A week? “Get up. Grace brought you something to eat.”
“Not hungry,” I mumble. “Too tired.”
“Come on, Jay.”
I hear the blinds being drawn before sunlight floods the room, making me wince, as the comforter is yanked away from my warm body.
Someone gasps.
“Oh baby girl, what have you done to yourself?” my mom cries, cupping my face in her hands. “Oh, my God. This is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Em,” Bass whispers.
“It is! She’s my daughter. I should’ve been paying attention. Goddammit! I’m calling Dr. Ramos.”
“Princess?” Bass pulls me into his lap and brushes my hair from my face. “I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”
“No, B, it hurts,” I whimper.
“What hurts, Princess?”
“Everything.”