Early upload! I spent some time listening to different songs today to try and find the perfect one, and I think the one above fits pretty well with where Jessie is right now. Hope you enjoy! 🤗🤗❤️❤️

Chapter 57

Alcohol helped to knock me out, but the next morning came too soon.

It wasn't until the group sacrificed Lexy, forcing the poor girl to come and check that I wasn't dead, that I finally got out of bed. For an hour, I made my way around the kitchen like a zombie, ignoring each sympathetic and wary look from those crunched inside the two main rooms.

Blankets and pillows were scattered everywhere, from the kitchen floor to the living room couch, making it apparent that the other bedroom was off limits to more than just Bard.

While they all offered hungover Jessie a wide berth, the minute I became somewhat lucid, Zeke cornered me.

I sat at the kitchen table, leaned over a cup of coffee, contemplating my next move, when he took the seat beside me.

"An idea," he said, resting his own mug in front of him. "I talked to Bard last night. He's agreed to stay away and keep to the woods if you stay here where it's safe."

I opened my mouth to tell him it wouldn't work, but the look I received made me close it.

"Don't be stupid. It's dangerous out there, and Bard's right. This is the soundest plan to end it. After it's done, when it's safe again, he plans to stay here and let you have the motorhome to yourself."

Any response I might have had lodged inside my throat. The way he'd said it...

It was really over. Just like that, over before it had even truly begun.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

I had nowhere to go– no prospects of a life outside of the blessing that was the shop. Could I be there, in that motorhome? Could I wake up in his bed and sit at that kitchen table without thinking about him every time?

I took a sip of my coffee, and the image of that blinding smile conjured into my mind's eye. It wouldn't matter where I went, I'd still think about him. Maybe, my heart was fighting to find an excuse not to leave. Maybe, my subconscious just wouldn't accept this change of events. Maybe, I was an idiot that just couldn't leave when it was so obvious that this was over, but I found myself nodding agreement. "Alright."

Zeke smiled. "That's real great, Jessie. We'll get it all worked out." He gripped my shoulder, then stood. "I put the art supplies on your bed, and I think the girls want to spend some time with you, but they're too afraid to approach."

"Is she still here?" My voice came out hoarse, a combination of the hangover and my current mood.

Zeke paused. "I drove her home last night."

I nodded. "I'm just gonna keep to myself today."

He stood there for a long time, and I kept my gaze on the steam rising from my cup.

After what felt like an eternity, he said, "The boy's a mess, girl. He's drunk himself into a stupor."

I held my hand up. "Don't." He was a mess. He'd drunk himself into a stupor. At least, I knew he cared, but it didn't change anything. Bard couldn't see me. Bard saw the same shit the world did.

Zeke stood another moment, looking like he wanted to say more, but he eventually gave up and walked away.

My chest hurt.

I sat there for a while, trying not to think about him, not to worry about him, but it was proving impossible. This was going to be hard. I was right in the beginning. I should have stayed strong. I knew from the start I wouldn't forget him so easily, and now it was too late. I'd never get over this.

The chair scrubbed as I pushed myself away from and the table. I just needed to be alone, away from prying, sympathetic glances. I avoided all eye contact on the way, then firmly closed myself inside. A sketch pad and a pack of pencils sat on top of the bedspread, and I gratefully picked them up.

Just like when I was a kid, the art did it's job to soothe me. My mind quieted, and I didn't put any thought into the drawing. I went back to that place; the one that eased my chest and calmed my nerves. The place where my true self lived, and nothing and nobody could touch me.

No club, no jail, no foster families, no intense men to break me.

No judgement.

Just me and my art.

I drew for hours, my pencil moving on it's own accord, my mind zoned in with one solitary focus.

Until I stopped.

Those eyes. His eyes.

They stared back at me from the page, like the first time I'd met him. Searching, probing, calling to me.

I threw the book across the room and buried my face in my hands– fingers into my hair– gripping, willing away a moisture more persistent than any other. It was so much harder this time. So much more.

"Why'd I let you in?" I choked out to the empty room. "Why?"

A soft tap came in response, right onto the window behind me. I turned, and peeked out.

Boe stood just outside, a soft smile on his face. Come out, he mouthed to me.

I shook my head no and turned away.

"Come out!" He tapped incessantly at the glass.

"Go away!" I yelled back. I stood and picked the sketch pad back up from the floor.

I'd just sat back down when he started.

"Show me the meaning of being lonely," he bellowed out in the most god-awful singing voice I'd ever heard. "Is this the feeling I need to walk with? Tell me why! I can't be there where you are!"

"Will you shut the fuck up!" I turned and peeked back through the blinds, then glared at him.

"Come out!"

"No!" I flopped back down and started a new sketch.

"I'm so lone-ly! I'm so lone-ly! I'm the loneliest... Boe... in the world."

I grit my teeth and slapped the pad onto the mattress. "What do you want?"

He grinned. "I want you to come out."

"I don't want to come out."

He paused. "Okay. I'll just keep singing outside the window."

I glared at him as he took a deep breath to begin.

"If I come out," I said, cutting him off before he could begin. "I'm coming to knock you out."

His mouth closed, brow furrowed. "You don't like the Backstreet Boys?"

I gave him a flat look.

"Right." He tapped his chin. "You seem like a rock type of chick." More pondering. I practically watched the lightbulb appear above his head before he took a deep breath and belted out, "Lonely is the night," in a much too high version of the song.

I'm over this.

"I'm coming out."

He smiled.

It took me less time than it should have to make it outside, and when Boe caught sight of my aggressive pace, his eyes widened.

"I was just trying to cheer you up."

I rushed forward and knocked him on his ass.

He threw his arms over his face, curled in on himself, and laughed. "I swear, mistress. I will behave."

I knew what he was trying to do, but I didn't want it. It wouldn't work. "Please." My voice broke. "I want to be alone."

Boe's arms lowered, and his laughter fizzled out and died. He propped himself upright and studied me. "Being alone won't help. Come hang out with me. We can go out back. I'll let you beat me."

Bard's accusations towards Boe rushed forward like warning bells, and despite how well I thought I knew him, the doubt was there all the same. "Why are you here, Boe?"

He stood up and dusted off his jeans, all the while with an expression that let me know he knew exactly why I'd asked. "He's wrong."

"About which part?"

He looked over at me. "This is different."

"How?"

"It just is."

"So, you don't want to sleep with me?"

He didn't respond for a long moment. "That's hardly fair."

Fair. "Fair is a myth lucky people believe so they don't have to feel bad for the rest of us." I stared him down. "What do you want?"

"I meant what I said. Turn me away all you want. Tell me you don't want me. Doesn't mean I'm going to let you sit alone in that room suffering. It's different because we're friends, Jessie. I care about you, whether you sleep with me or not."

I didn't have the energy to doubt him, especially when he said it all so genuinely. "I'm not going to sleep with you."

"Will you sit with me?"

I stared at him a long moment. "If you give me booze."

His brow creased. "It's noon." He took a step closer and locked his eyes with mine. "Alright." He nodded. "I'll go get something and meet you by the steps."

I did. I sat down on the worn wood and stared at the trees, wondering if a set of sharp eyes looked back at me. Then, when Boe arrived, I drank– drank until I couldn't stand– drank until the pain numbed, and the stabbing pain in my chest simmered to a dull ache.

I drank until I couldn't anymore, then passed out in the front yard with the day, the night before, and every other aspect of my life nothing more than a blur.

All that existed was the dewy grass upon my cheek, and the faint memory of familiar arms lifting me up and carrying me back to bed.

Hope you enjoyed! Next upload Thursday!