Page 55 of Rewriting History

“Are you cheating on Dad?” I ask, my voice cold.

Her eyes widen in shock as she lifts her hand to her mouth. The color drains from her cheeks as she struggles to form words. Guilty. It’s written all over her face.

Fucking guilty.

“How the fuck could you do that to Dad?” I scream. “He works away to support us, and you repay him by screwing other people? I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Jilly, baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mom says, her face wet with tears. “Please, let me explain . . .”

“How long?” I ask.

She raises her head, her eyes meeting mine. “A few months.”

“Since we moved here?” I gasp.

This is bullshit. I can’t handle being around her right now. I grab my bag and walk to the door, not bothering to address her. I think we both know where I’m headed. My feet hit the pavement, and I run. I don’t bother looking back. Running will help me calm down and make sense of what is happening. I run for an hour, until I’ve reached Eli’s place.

I don’t know where else to go.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Eli

“Jill?” I ask, opening the door. I quickly glance down the road and usher her inside. She’s a mess. I can tell she’s been crying from the way her eyes are so red and puffy. I reach out, touching her clammy arms. “God, did you run here? Why didn’t you call me?”

She doesn’t answer, but lets me lead her inside. I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bathroom. She’s shaking, and I need to get her warmed up.

I turn on the shower and slowly undress her. She’s lost in her own world, not taking in anything I say. If I didn’t know better I’d wonder if she’d taken something. I shiver, memories of the night of the party running through my head.

God, I hate seeing her hurting.

With the water nice and hot, I help her into the shower, not caring that my own clothes are getting soaked. Fresh tears make their way down her cheeks and I wish so hard that she would talk to me, but I know I can’t push her. The most important thing right now is getting her warm and dry.

I wrap her in a towel and lead her into the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of my bed. I shuffle through my drawers until I find an old college sweatshirt and a pair of track pants. She’s more with it now, and is able to change herself into the clothes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go . . .”

“Is it your mom?” I ask gently, crouching down beside her.

She nods, and I lift my hand to her face and wipe her eyes.

; “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I want to forget about it.” She laughs bitterly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

She takes my hand and we go out into the living room.

“Sit down,” I order, leaving her there to go back into the kitchen. I grab us some drinks and some food to snack on and carry it back out to her.

She’s curled up on the sofa, smiling at me as I set the food out.

“Thanks.” She leans over and kisses me. Leaning back on the sofa, I motion for her to come closer. She does, snuggling into my arms.

We spend the rest of the afternoon watching movies while lying on the sofa, her in my arms.