First Came You (Fate #0.5) by Faith Andrews

Author:Faith Andrews [Andrews, Faith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00X350ZYA
Published: 2015-05-02T23:00:00+00:00

We buried my parents on a Tuesday. It rained—poured, actually—adding another layer of morose ugliness to an already horribly depressing day.

My heart ached with immeasurable pain as we sat in church—the same second pew we’d shared together as a family on many Sundays—and I listened to the priest speak of my parents. He spoke in past tense and it made my stomach coil with panic.

My parents no longer are. Now they were.

The reality brought on a wave of nausea that I could only swallow down and force myself to ignore.

I had to learn to do that a lot in the last few weeks since the funeral; to disregard the looks of pity, the pain of moving forward because life goes on, and the fact when my parents died, they took a piece of me with them.

“Hey? You okay?” Tommy nudges me, barely penetrating my new permanent fog.

I shrug, never knowing how to answer him. No, I’m not okay. Yes, I’m slightly better than yesterday. Maybe, I’ll never be okay again.

What am I supposed to say? I can’t say anything.

So, I don’t.

I remain silent, lodging the wedge I’ve created between me and Tommy even deeper. I’m still not sure why he puts himself through this. I know he loves me, but I’m giving nothing in return. I wouldn’t blame him for giving up because I don’t know when I’ll be back to me—the me he fell in love with.

“Why don’t we take a ride to the beach? Dig our feet in the sand? Watch the waves roll in? A change of scenery might be good, Gabby. You haven’t been out of the house in days.” Tommy curls up behind me on my parents’ bed. I’ve slept here every night since—well, since they haven’t.

I cringe at his warm touch and more agony courses through me. Even his touch is no longer a comfort. I’m broken—in every way. Totally unfixable.

“Come on, baby. Let me get you dressed. You need this. We need this.”

I close my eyes and fight back tears. He’s so worried for me, for us, and all I can do is lay motionless on the sheets that still smell like my dead mother and father.

“I’m not ready. You go. You don’t need to stay here and watch me like this.” I’ve begged him to go many times. But he won’t. He’s practically moved in, sleeping on the couch, cooking for me and Gina. Invisible, yet a constant presence.

I should be thankful, but the sick part is, I’m not. Part of me wishes he would leave me alone to wallow in my misery for a little while. I know it won’t help, but nothing else seems to be, either.

Tommy’s bare feet thud against the hardwood floor as he stands from the bed. Without uncurling from my fetal position, I hear him walk around to my side. Kneeling in front of me, his face an inch from mine, his eyes plead with me. “Please, Gabriella. Please let me help you.”

The noose around my heart grows tighter as I watch the anguish wash over his handsome, masculine face.

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