Coming Home (48 page)

He couldn’t do this.

“This isn’t working, Leah,” he said, his forehead still resting on his fists.

“What isn’t working?”

“This,” he said finally, lifting his head. “Us.”

Leah blinked at him like he had just said something in a foreign language. “What are you talking about?”

The words were all there, just waiting to be said: that he couldn’t be around her until he figured out how to be himself again. That he didn’t want what they had to be dragged through shit in the process. That he needed to end their relationship now, because it was the only way to preserve it. And they could both remember it the way it had truly been—powerful and unblemished and real, not bruised and broken and so sullied it was impossible to remember it was ever beautiful in the first place.

Yes, the words were all there. But instead, he said, “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, Leah. I’m realizing that now. And thinking we could make this work was one of them.”

“Danny,” she said, a hint of dread in her tone. The confusion on her face was slowly giving way to realization.

“It just doesn’t make sense anymore,” he continued. “For either one of us.”

She shook her head. “Stop. Don’t do this.”

“No,
you
don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t make this hard, Leah. I’m trying to tell you what I want.”

She stared at him for several seconds before she spoke. “And you’re saying you don’t want this?” Her expression was smooth, but her voice quavered slightly, betraying her. “You don’t want us?”

It took every ounce of strength in his body to keep the emotion out of his next words—the most despicable lie to ever leave his lips. “Not anymore.”

Leah kept her eyes on him, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest gradually increase in speed. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

He needed to end this conversation. Her suffering would be the last straw—the thing that demolished him and caused his illusion of strength to burst apart and scatter to the floor like the house of cards it was.

“It’s what’s best for both of us, Leah. I promise you that. I know you don’t think so right now, but eventually you will. And then you’ll be relieved we put a stop to this when we did.”

She opened her mouth to speak and he stood, cutting her off. Leah lifted her chin, looking up at him with eyes so full of vulnerability he knew he’d never recover from the weight of it.

“I just want you to know,” he said. He cleared his throat and took a step backward. “I just want you to know that every time I told you I loved you…I meant it.”

Leah shook her head. “Don’t say that,” she said, her voice hardening slightly. “You don’t get to say those words to me right now.”

Danny looked down and nodded. “Take care of yourself, Leah,” he said, and then he turned and walked back toward the inmates’ exit. He held his thumb against the buzzer that would alert the guard, and as the seconds ticked by, he kept his eyes on the door, refusing to look back.

Whatever he would find there—whether she was sobbing, or infuriated, or struck dumb, or relieved—none of it would provide him with any solace. No good could come of looking back. He had to keep moving forward.

The door opened and Danny stepped inside the small room, immediately putting his arms out to his sides, and as the guard patted him down, he heard the door click shut behind him.

He’d been right about one thing—this day had been a turning point for him. For the first time since he’d walked through the doors of Fort Dix, he felt something that resembled relief.

Because no matter how far he spiraled down now, he wouldn’t be dragging her along with him.

“Rise and shine, gorgeous.”

Leah flinched as a flash of brightness penetrated the room, assaulting her eyes even though they were still closed.

She pulled her brow together and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow and away from the offensive light as she curled her comforter into her chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Holly said, grabbing her blanket and giving it a firm yank, forcing Leah onto her back again. “Come on. Up you go.”

“Holly, what the hell?” Leah rasped, her voice gravelly with sleep and disuse. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“It’s almost noon, Leah. Time to get up.”

“How did you even get in here?” Leah snapped, and Holly laughed.

“I have a key, remember?”

“Yeah, for emergencies.”

“This
is
an emergency,” Holly said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I need to go shopping, and Robyn’s babysitting her nieces today, so I have no reinforcements.”

Leah’s hands dropped from her eyes as she turned her head, staring blankly at her friend. “We clearly have conflicting definitions of that word.”

Holly smiled. “Up you go, lovely,” she said, grabbing Leah’s hands and jerking her forcefully from the bed.

“Jesus!” Leah complained as she stumbled with the blanket tangled around her foot. “Take it easy!”

“Get in the shower,” Holly said, completely unfazed. “How long has it been since you’ve done that, by the way?” she added, making a face.

“Holly, I’m tired,” Leah said listlessly. “I just want to go back to bed.”

“And you can. As soon as we get back.”

Leah’s shoulders dropped as Holly said, “You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. Shower, shop, home. So come on,” she said with a sharp clap of her hands. “Let’s get moving.”

Leah would have protested again if she thought it would do any good, but she’d known Holly too long. It was either do what she asked or spend the next few hours dealing with her nonsense.

“I hate you,” Leah grumbled, and Holly grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the bathroom.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I still love you, and I’m very difficult to get rid of.” She leaned into the shower and turned on the water.

Leah folded her arms. “Are you gonna take my clothes off and wash me too, or can I handle it from here?”

“There was a time I may have taken you up on that offer, but mama’s let herself go lately,” she said, gesturing at Leah. “Clean yourself up and ask me again later.”

Leah didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it.

Holly laughed before she walked past her. “I’ll be waiting in your room,” she said before she walked out of the bathroom and closed the door.

Leah sighed heavily as she began to strip off her clothes. Every movement felt like a chore, like she was fighting against the resistance of invisible rubber bands holding every one of her limbs in place.

She stepped into the shower, turning the knob so that the water would heat up. She welcomed the burn, forced herself to stay and deal with the sting.

She knew exactly what this little day-trip was about. Subtlety had never been Holly’s strong suit.

It had been just over two weeks since her visit with Danny, and Leah hadn’t left her house for anything outside of going to work. She would come home in the afternoon and crawl into bed, sometimes immediately falling asleep and not waking until the following morning.

Those were the merciful days.

There were other times she would lie there for hours on end, staring aimlessly at the ceiling or the TV or whatever else was in front of her, unable to sink into the benevolent refuge of unconsciousness.

She forgot meals entirely. She barely bathed.

Her colleagues at work knew she was sick. At least, that’s what she’d told them to account for her bedraggled appearance, the bags under her eyes, her hair pulled sloppily into a ponytail rather than blown straight and shiny. Every day they’d ask how she was feeling, offering her their sympathies and their diagnoses and their home remedies.

But there was only one cure for what ailed her. And it was unattainable.

A constant ache resided in her chest—a crushing pain that had her wondering if it were actually possible for a heart to break. If it were feasible for an organ to shatter, sending jagged shards throughout her body that pierced her with every movement.

Sharp reminders of her misery.

She had never endured this type of suffering before. When Leah had lost her mother, it had been impossible to be with her. She was gone—no longer in existence. When she had lost Scott, there was no desire to be near him ever again.

But with Danny, she needed him so desperately it consumed her. And he was out there. Living and breathing and existing. And completely out of her reach.

It was the cruelest type of torment.

He hadn’t contacted her at all since she’d gone to see him, which meant she couldn’t even fight for him. It wasn’t like she could call him. She couldn’t text. She couldn’t show up at his apartment begging to be heard. And even if she could, what would be the point? He’d made it clear what he wanted.

No, it was easier to just sit back and let the desolation have her. She didn’t have the energy to fight against it this time.

Leah got out of the shower and brushed her wet hair, tying it back into a low ponytail without blow-drying it. And then she walked out of the bathroom, bypassing her makeup case yet again.

“I picked out an outfit for you,” Holly said, holding up a pair of skinny jeans and a cute flowered tank.

“No,” Leah said, walking toward her dresser and opening the bottom drawer where she kept her yoga pants and sweats.

She heard Holly sigh heavily. “Fine,” she said, tossing the clothes on Leah’s bed. “You’re agreeing to come, so I’ll give you this one concession. You can look like a complete dirtbag if it will make you feel better.”

“It will,” Leah said flatly as she pulled on a pair of charcoal yoga pants.

As they drove to the mall, Holly kept up a steady stream of small talk, filling Leah in on the everyday occurrences and little tidbits of life she’d missed out on over the past two weeks. Apparently, the shopping trip was for a party Evan had been invited to the following weekend. His ex-girlfriend was going to be there, so Holly needed to look “devastatingly sexy,” as she put it.

Leah followed her through the mall, nodding when she was supposed to, smiling when she was supposed to, answering when she was required to, all the while counting down the minutes until she could crawl back into her bed.

They walked through the department store, and Holly pulled dress after dress off the rack, holding it out and examining it before tossing it over her arm or hanging it back up with a shake of her head.

“I think you’ve got enough,” Leah said, gesturing toward the mountain of fabric piled over her friend’s arm.

Holly shrugged. “I don’t know that any of these are devastating, but I’ll try them on. We can always go to a different store after this.”

Please
, Leah thought,
please let one of them be devastating
.

They walked into one of the fitting rooms, and Holly dropped the heap of dresses on the bench in the corner. “You have to be honest,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. “Don’t yes me to death because you want to go home. If you send me to a party with Evan’s ex looking like a heifer, I’ll spend the rest of my life torturing you.”

“How will that be different from what you already do?”

Holly smiled. “There she is! Oh, how I’ve missed bitchy Leah.”

Leah smiled half-heartedly as Holly reached over and grabbed a dress off the top of the pile, handing it to Leah. “Here, put this on,” she said, taking the next one for herself.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s fun to try on dresses. Humor me,” she said, pulling a dark green cocktail dress over her head.

Humor her. The quicker she’s happy, the quicker you can get out of here.

Leah stripped her clothes off and stepped into the dress, pulling it up over her torso, and Holly came behind her, zipping it up.

It was a beautiful dress—simple, but elegant, chocolate-colored and strapless, fitting snugly around her middle and flowing out softly from her hips in a billowy skirt that hit just above her knee.

“Your body looks
sick
in this,” Holly said.

Leah stared at her reflection: the slumped shoulders, the purplish rings under her eyes, the pallid skin, her hair flat and un-styled, her vacant stare.

She saw herself standing alone, without him at her side, and because of that, there was nothing beautiful about what she was looking at, no matter what she was wearing.

“Seriously, this is gorgeous on you,” Holly said.

“Yeah, it’s pretty,” Leah agreed, turning so Holly could unzip her. “And not that one,” she added, referencing the dress Holly was wearing. “It makes you look boxy.”

Holly’s eyes met hers in the mirror and she smiled. “That was a test, and you passed with flying colors, my darling.”

Leah shook her head and laughed softly, stepping out of the brown dress and putting it back on the hanger.

About an hour later, they were hanging Holly’s unwanted dresses on the rack outside the fitting rooms. She had chosen a red sheath dress that emphasized her incredible legs, and the color was guaranteed to turn every head in whatever room she walked into. Leah had assured her if she paired it with some platform heels and red lipstick, against the dark tone of her hair, she would most certainly be devastating.