Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,57

know I’m leaving things behind in Kit’s room and the laundry room and probably the bathroom, too, but my vision is hazy and I can’t think straight. One of my shirts gets caught in the zipper and I let out a string of swear words under my breath, trying to open the zipper and shredding my top in the process.

Tears cling to my eyelashes and I blink them down my cheeks, my heart beating erratically as I try to gather my belongings.

All I know is I need to get back to New Haven. I need to be beside my grandmother. I should have never left. What was I thinking, moving across the country? Did I really think I could leave my family behind?

Tears flow freely from my eyes until I brush them away, taking a trembling breath as I finally manage to look at my phone. I read Kit’s message, and my heart breaks.

Of course the conversation with my brother went well. My brother is a reasonable, loving man. He just wants what’s best for me, and he probably already knew that Kit and I were into each other.

But the text doesn’t make me feel any better. It doesn’t make me feel hopeful about the future or happy that we might end up together. It just makes my mouth taste like ash and my heart splinter and crack, because I know happiness with Kit is slipping through my fingers.

How can I even pretend to want to stay here when my grandmother is in the hospital? How can I pretend that I’ll come back for a teaching position when my family is falling apart?

My ribs squeeze in until it’s hard to breathe. Everything is sore, from the tight skin around my eyes to the muscles cutting across my back. Most of all, though, my heart hurts. It aches with every thump, and I hate how far away I am.

I’m about to call a taxi when the doorbell rings. With my face still blotchy and red, I pull the door open to see Willow on the other side, a bright smile on her face. It fades in an instant when she sees me.

“What happened?”

“My grandmother had a stroke,” I say, my voice trembling on the last word. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Willow says. There’s no question in her voice, and I almost crumple to the floor right then and there. I don’t have the energy to protest, so I just accept her generosity and get my bag.

This is what I’m leaving behind—unconditional kindness and friendship. And Kit.

Will it be forever? Will I ever come back here?

The way I feel right now, the answer is no. I feel too far away from my family. Too far away from Nonna. Too far away from everyone who has been close to me my whole life. Willow doesn’t say much, but she helps me into the car and puts a comforting hand on my forearm.

She gives me a tight, sad smile and nods. “Kit will understand,” she says, and it sets off more tears flowing down my face.

All I can do is nod, even though my heart is breaking.

Will he understand if I don’t come back, though?

Leaning my head on the window, I watch the world go by as Willow drives me to the airport. I don’t even have a flight, but I’ll try to get on the standby list for the next available seat. I don’t have the energy to think about logistics. All I know is I need to get home.

When we get to the airport after a long, silent drive, Willow helps me take my bag out and wraps her thin, strong arms around me. Her long, blond hair smells like strawberries, and the thought of saying goodbye to her makes me want to cry all over again.

She pulls away, squeezing my shoulders. “Be strong.”

She doesn’t say, it’ll be okay, or it’ll work out. She doesn’t tell me my grandmother will recover. Willow knows the truth. Nonna might die, or at the very best, her quality of life will be severely worsened. There’s no recovering from a stroke when you’re in your eighties.

When Willow wipes a tear from her eye, a smudge of mascara swipes across her face. I’m sure I look even worse.

I’ve only known her a couple of weeks, but saying goodbye is harder than I could have imagined. It feels like I’m saying goodbye to Woodvale. Saying goodbye to a potential future. To everything