Everly After by Rebecca Paula Read Free Book Online Page B

looking for?”
    A laugh bubbles up in my throat. I’m looking for a lot, but it won’t to be waiting for me when I open my eyes.
    “Everly.”
    I wrap my arms around my middle, afraid that I’m going to laugh myself into disjointed pieces that won’t fit back together again. When I finally look, there isn’t hate in his eyes. There isn’t pity, either. Beckett is staring at me as though I’m missing a part.
    He crouches down, his hand hovering above my head as if he’ll die at my touch. I want to throw up or disappear. I want to be invisible.
    Except, in the back of my mind, I think that I might want to kiss him. I wonder if his lips are what I’m missing. With his lips on mine, I might be able to pull myself back together.
    But he goes ahead and touches me and ruins everything.

Beckett
     
    I have no fucking clue what just happened.
    Her nervous laugh is unhinged, a broken shard of what’s considered normal. I’m stuck, my hand suspended above her face, afraid that if I touch her, I’m going to change something between us. It all goes back to that night on the roof. I wonder whether she would have jumped if I had never crashed her private party. If she really meant what she’d said that night or if she’s like the girl lying on my floor now, laughing while she falls apart.
    I lift my shirt to her head to stop the bleeding. Again. She’ll ruin my whole fucking wardrobe if I know her long enough. She’s shivering, her bloodshot eyes glazed over.
    “Why are you here?” I’m so fucking pissed that she’s here, bleeding onto my shirt, crashing into my life.
    Tears well up in her eyes until I panic and press the shirt tighter against her head. Some part of me still wants to wrap my arms around her, cover her up.
    When our eyes meet, she fumbles with the sunglasses on her head. “I’m sorry.” Her words are slurred. I wonder if it’s from her fall or whatever she has in her system. “I’m leaving. I’ll leave. I’ll leave you alone.”
    “I don’t think you should move.” Her temple is bright red, and she has a bruise that’s swelling. I peel back my shirt, and her cut is still bleeding. “You might need stitches.”
    “I’m fine.” Everly tries to sit up but falls back on a sigh. “I’m fine,” she repeats in a soft whisper.
    The color drains from her face. I pick her up before she can make an even bigger mess and bring her to the shower. She throws up for a few minutes, hunched over on her hands and knees. I hold back her hair and wait, naming off every other place I’d rather be than stuck in my bathroom with a puking party girl. I get twelve shitty places on my list before she goes quiet. I roll my head over the wall and watch her bowed figure pressed into the corner of my shower. The world suddenly seems poised to swallow her up.
    “Feel better?” I ask.
    Everly gives a small nod, blowing out a breath as she rests her forehead against my shower wall. “I’m fine.” Her voice is louder than it should be, echoing around us. That tiny, disjointed laugh bubbles past her lips, and she sinks back onto the floor opposite me. She clutches her sunglasses as if, with them, she’s invisible.
    “Right,” I grumble. “Whatever you say.” I prop her against the sink cabinet and wet a towel to clean off her face. “But you’re wrong.” Everly drops her sunglasses and looks at me, her eyebrows stretched high. “You’re a mess.” She laughs again and knocks her head back against the cabinet. “You’re going to knock yourself out, Everly.”
    “That’d be great,” she mumbles.
    I only sort of agree. I don’t want to deal with her anymore, but she’s gotten under my skin. There’s no point in lying about that any longer.
    “I’m tired.” She yawns and stretches until her body goes slack again. “I’m so tired.”
    “It’s not a good idea to sleep with a concussion.”
    “I don’t have a—” She doesn’t attempt to say it. “I’m fine.”
    “You’re bleeding all