Page 26 of Fight for You

"How are you functioning?" I groan as my head continues to throb.

Her worried expression eases as she strolls into my room. "Here." She holds out a glass of water, crackers, and some Tylenol. "This will make you feel better."

I grunt wordlessly, not convinced there's enough Tylenol in the world to make me feel better this morning, but I sit up carefully and take it anyway. The water soothes the worst of the pain in my throat. My tongue doesn't feel like it's glued to the roof of my mouth anymore, either.

Mariah perches on the edge of the bed while I nibble on the crackers.

"I remember what happened," I mutter, putting her out of her misery. I know she wants to ask but is afraid to remind me that I lost it last night. Not that I blame her. I wouldn't want to have to deliver that blow if our roles were reversed. Sorry to tell you, but you had a meltdown in front of your ex and had to be carried to bed. It doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

"You do?" Relief flashes across her face, and then she gives me a sympathetic frown. "I think you should talk to him."

"No, thanks. I think I talked enough last night," I mumble around a mouthful of crackers.

She eyes me for a minute, running her teeth back and forth over her bottom lip like she does when she's trying to make a difficult decision. She's done the same thing for as long as I've known her. It's a dead giveaway that I'm not going to like whatever she has to say.

"Just tell me," I sigh, ready to get it over with.

"I don't think he's over you," she blurts out.

"Yeah, right." I drop the rest of the crackers into the trashcan beside the bed, my stomach churning. As if I haven't been down that same rabbit hole before. I've had elaborate fantasies of him coming back to profess his undying love so many times over the years it's honestly pathetic. And it always ends the same way…with me crashing back down into painful reality with all the force of a meteor. It hurts every damn time.

"I'm serious, January," she says, pushing her glasses up on her nose before turning her body to face me. "You didn't see the look on his face last night."

"What look?" I ask, curious if she saw the same thing I did or if I just imagined it. I probably just imagined it, but part of me wants to be wrong. That's the same idiotic part that still dreams about him coming back for me.

"He looked like you did for months after he left," she whispers. "And I'm pretty sure he was ready to cry when he ran out of here."

That pulls me up short. In all the years I knew Cade, I never once saw him cry. Not even when…I jerk my mind away, refusing to think about that right now. If I go there, I'll lose it all over again. The point is, I've never seen him cry, so I doubt he was ready to cry over me. Mariah wants to believe in happily-ever-afters so badly she's chasing the same ghosts I used to chase. But eventually, she'll reach the same conclusion I did. Happy endings don't exist in South Central.

"I'm not saying you have to forgive him," she says, squeezing my hand in a silent show of support or sympathy or whatever this particular situation calls for. "But I've known you forever, January, and you never got over him. He broke your heart, and you're still hurting over it. At the very least, maybe talking to him will give you the closure you never got so you can move on. You deserve to be happy, but you never will be until you make peace with your past."

She's right, damn her. But she's wrong too because there is no getting over Cade, not for me. Not now. Maybe not ever. I accepted a long time ago that the biggest piece of my heart would always belong to him. He claimed my soul before I was even old enough to understand that the sweet boy who picked me up when I fell would turn into the man who made me fall the hardest. He turned into the man who broke me. And God help me, I'd let him do it again.

"I told him I hated him."

Mariah blinks at me.

"The day he left, I told him I hated him." Tears burn at the back of my eyes even though they don't fall. "I was so angry with everyone and everything. I told him I hated him and that I'd never forgive him. I told him that I never wanted to see him again."

I didn't mean it, but I was hurting, and I lashed out at him. Back then, it seemed like the logical thing to do, to make him hurt like I hurt. I thought he couldn't possibly understand how I felt, and I didn't want to feel it alone. I was drowning, and I just wanted it to stop. Instead, I pushed him out the door.

Mariah blames him because I was a coward, and I let her believe he just left me. Because that was easier than facing the truth. I made him walk away. The last seven years have been my punishment, but I'm still mad at him for it.

How selfish is that? I pushed him out the door…and I'm still mad at him for letting me do it.

"Oh, January," Mariah whispers, pulling me in for a tight hug. "You were going through the worst thing imaginable, and you said something you didn't mean. You're both still hurting over it. That much is obvious."

I cling to her for a minute, borrowing a little of her strength since I've never had very much of my own. Cade and Titan were always strong for me so I didn't have to be. Even after all these years, I still haven't found my own strength. It takes all I have to keep moving forward, to get up and go about each day without crashing to the ground.

I'm still in love with Cade, but I don't know how to fix what I broke. I don't even know if he wants to fix it. What if Mariah's wrong, and he's moved on?

What if she's right and he hasn't? a little voice counters.

"I'll talk to him," I sigh, too scared to hope but hopeful as hell anyway.

I spend all day waiting around the house for Cade to return to Ma Lucia's, ready to get this over quickly and painlessly. Every time a car passes by, my heart races. I find myself peeking out the window incessantly, but it's never him. I'm not even sure if he plans to return at all. For all I know, when he left last night, it was for good.

Refusing to dwell on the way that thought grinds in my chest, making my entire soul ache, I start cleaning. I make my way through each room, scrubbing down everything in my path. By the time dark falls, my hangover is a distant memory, and the house is spotless. I've also baked enough cookies to feed a small army…and I'm still obsessing.