Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“I don’t care,” I told him. “I want to be here for you.”
“Star. You can’t. It’s fine.”
My chest tightened as the reality of our situation came back in full force. His father was fighting for his life inside of said hospital, and I couldn’t even go up there to be by Milo’s side due to my position at the high school. It seemed ridiculous and unfair.
“I’ll wait here until you’re done,” I told him.
“It might be hours,” he whispered, his voice tired and cracking.
“I’ll wait here,” I said once more.
He nodded once, then slid out of the car. As he walked away, I had to force myself not to rush in beside him so he wouldn’t have to go alone. Thirty minutes passed quickly. Then an hour. It wasn’t long after that that Milo came out of the building and walked toward my car again. He opened the door and climbed back inside.
I sat straighter, waiting to hear the news.
“He’s pretty beat up and not doing too great. He’s in a coma, and they don’t know… They didn’t have much information to give me. They said I could call for updates or come back during visiting hours, which I’ll do.”
“Okay. That’s good. And Weston?”
“He left a little bit before me. I told him I’d take an Uber home or something.”
“You’re not going to stay with him tonight?”
“No. I’m staying at my place.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m going to stay with you.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve already stolen a day of your time. I’ll be fine and—”
“I’m staying with you,” I repeated.
He looked at me and parted his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but no words left his lips. He simply nodded, completely defeated.
I took him to my dorm room, where I collected a few items in a duffel bag to take over to Milo’s. He sat on my bed, quiet. I was certain his mind was busier than ever, twisted with corrupted thoughts that were eating at his spirit.
As I grabbed my phone charger from the wall, the dorm door opened, and Whitney walked in with her headphones. The second her eyes fell on Milo, her jaw dropped open, but she held her composure the best she could.
“Is everything okay?” she asked as I zipped up the duffel bag.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’ll be gone for a few days,” I told her.
“But what about your big exam tomorrow?”
“I don’t care,” I confessed, feeling my anxiety build as she said all this stuff in front of Milo. Nothing against my best friend, but she was the last person I wanted to deal with at that moment. My mind was focused on Milo and Milo only.
I turned toward him and gave him a tiny smile. “Ready?”
He nodded and stood from my bed.
“Starlet—” Whitney started.
I turned to her and placed a hand on her forearm. “I’ll explain everything when I’m back in a few days.”
She nodded, maybe not in complete understanding but in solidarity. “Be careful,” she whispered, not loud enough for Milo to hear. Then she pulled me into a hug and said it once more. “Just be careful, Star.”
Milo and I drove to his house, and he grabbed my bag to carry it inside. He moved as if walking through quicksand, seconds away from being pulled deeper into his own tortured depression.
It wasn’t fair, watching him break. He was just beginning to learn to breathe again, and it felt selfish that the world was trying to pull him back down, deeper into the darkness when he’d just begun to feel the warmth of the sun.
I was able to take in his home a lot more than I’d been the night prior when I’d stayed over. His house felt like a time capsule of sorts. I could feel his mother through the decorations of the home. Dashes of feminine touches were scattered through every room. Photographs were plastered on the walls, yet many of them were crooked and covered in dust. A few light bulbs were burned out, and the space was dimly lit.
The home had such a haunting feeling to it. As if it was once so lively, yet it had been stuck in neutral ever since his mother passed away. What was once a warm and inviting home had transformed into a dreary place soaked in sadness.
I moved to the fireplace to study the photographs on the mantel. Pictures of Milo with both his parents. He looked so much like his mother that it almost took my breath away. From the sparkle in their eyes to the curves of their smiles. I now understood why it could be difficult for his father to look at Milo. It was like looking at his favorite dream and not being able to hold it any longer. The living room coffee table was littered with empty beer cans and a half-eaten pizza in the box, and the floor could’ve used a good vacuuming, but when I looked around, all I really noticed was that two people lived there who were trying their best to make it through every single day. I’d never known a home could feel frozen in time until I’d stepped inside their four walls.