I’m not enjoying anything. My mind won’t stop going there. Their actions make me not believe in whatever Miller and I feel for each other, and that makes me sad. It hurts because I so want to believe in Miller and me. I want to believe in the way he looks at me, but I’ve seen my mother look at my father like that, so does it even mean anything? I want to believe Miller when he says he’s never craved anyone like he craves me, but how long will that be true? Until he grows bored with me and finds a girl he craves more than me? Thank God I don’t have a sister for him to fall in love with.
I pull Miller closer, wanting my face hidden against his skin. I hate having these thoughts, especially right now, but Miller is the only thing in my life that’s made me happy since they died, and now I’m scared my mother and Jonah have ruined that. Not only am I questioning them, and now Miller, but I’m questioning the whole stupid idea of monogamy and the validity of love and thinking how losing my virginity really isn’t all that special. Because if love isn’t real, then sex is just sex, no matter if it’s your first time or your fiftieth time or your last time.
It’s just one body part inside another body part. Big freaking deal.
Maybe that’s why people find it so easy to cheat: because sex is actually inconsequential. No different than two people shaking hands. Maybe having sex with your boyfriend for the first time means as little as having sex with your dead sister’s fiancé.
“Clara?” Miller says my name between heavy breaths. Between movements. Then he stops.
I open my eyes and pull away from his neck, allowing my head to fall back onto my pillow.
“Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He brushes hair from my face and runs a thumb down my wet cheek. “Why are you crying?”
I don’t want to talk about it. Especially not right now. I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I try to pull him against me again, but he separates himself from me and then rolls off me. I feel strangely empty now.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
I hate the worry in his eyes. I hate that he’s thinking any part of my reaction has anything to do with him, so I adamantly shake my head. “No. It’s not you, I swear.”
He looks relieved, but only for a fraction of a second. “Then what is it? You’re scaring me,” he whispers.
“It’s not you. It’s my mother. We got in a really bad argument tonight, and I’m just . . .” I wipe the tears away with my hands. “I’m so angry at her. I’m so angry, and I don’t know how to process it.” I roll over onto my side so I can face him. “She and Jonah are having an affair.”
Miller pulls back a little, shocked. “What?”
I nod, and I see the sympathy in his expression. He places a soothing hand on the side of my head.
“Earlier, when I got home, I walked in on them in the kitchen. I got so angry. It’s the angriest I’ve ever been in my life, and I think I might actually hate her. Like . . . I’m having all these thoughts about how much she’s betrayed my dad and my aunt. I can’t stop thinking about everything I can do to get back at her and punish her because all I can think about is how she deserves to suffer too.” I lift up on my elbow. “They haven’t been gone long enough for her to even be thinking about anyone other than my father. Which is why I’m pretty sure it was happening before the wreck.”
Miller is quiet for a moment, staring at me with a perplexed look, probably unsure how to comfort me when I’m this upset. He falls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “That’s why you called me over here?” His voice has a sharp edge to it, even though it’s still a whisper. “Because you’re mad at your mother?”
His reaction is staggering. I reach out and put my hand on his chest, but he grabs my wrist and flicks it off him. He rolls over and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to me.
“No. Miller, no.” I’m saying no, but that word is a lie, and we both know