Southern Hospitality
21
Same Old
Leaning her head against the window of her father's car as Milos drove through the busy streets of New York, she stared out at the blur of people passing. Her eyes felt swollen and hot even though she'd cried enough tears for a lifetime it seemed.
"Are you okay, Chloe?" The familiar, kind brown eyes that glanced at her and caught her gaze in the rear view mirror were too sharp, too perceptive.
Pressing her lips tighter against her teeth, she shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "I messed up," she said softly, her voice cracking on the words, and hot tears blurred her vision, "and I don't think I can fix this."
Milos glanced back out at the road. "Talking about can sometimes help," he explained.
She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself before she began to talk, told him about Rae and Simon and Royce and Derek—especially Derek. Even after everything, she felt her cheeks blaze at the mere mention of him and then came the sharp ache in her stomach.
What did you do? The harsh, accusing tone in his words, the rage in his eyes. Head to toe in black, he struck an imposing figure. Just the memory made her eyes burn again, the hot sting of tears. Then you shouldn't have fucking lead him on. Her lips quivered, her jaw hurt.
Milos was quiet. "You didn't mess up, Chloe," he said after a long pause, adjusting the mirror so their eyes met when she opened them. "If anything, this Derek boy is in the wrong. You can't force yourself to feel a certain way towards someone when you don't." A smile brightened his expression, making his eyes crinkle at the corners.
The sun streamed into her line of vision and she closed her eyes, relishing in the heat that pierced her eyelids as he took a turn too sharply.
Aunt Lauren was standing in the foyer when Milos pulled up to the house; Chloe could see her familiar silhouette through the glass of the front door and wide bay windows. The hot burn in her eyes came rushing back with vengeance and she swallowed thickly as she pushed open the car door.
The sun-baked breeze pushed back her hair while Milos walked round the side of the car, helping her with her bags.
As they unloaded her luggage, the front door opened and Aunt Lauren stepped out. She looked tired and sunburnt but smiled nonetheless when she spotted Chloe. Chloe's tears came again, fierce and intense enough to make her breathless, and she walked quickly up the drive, not trusting herself to speak a word until she had her face pressed against her aunt's chest.
Aunt Lauren's arms wrapped around her, her fingers threading through Chloe's messy hair. Neither said a word.
Dinner was greasy pizza from the restaurant down the street by herself, the emptiness of the house echoing every creak and shift in the foundation. The loneliness threatened to drown her as she stared at the empty seats sadly.
In true Aunt Lauren fashion, the minute they sat down to eat, her phone went off. A multiple-car collision on the interstate had them asking every off doctor for help, the influx of patients overwhelming the doctors and nurses working, and she'd looked at Chloe with those anxious, guilty eyes.
Chloe's stomach hurt as she smiled and encouraged her aunt to leave and her aunt didn't hesitate, even after the blonde girl had come home crying her eyes out. Along side the sadness and loneliness was boiling anger slugging through her veins, making her fingers hot.
The two slices she'd wolfed down with gusto after the long flight felt like lead in her stomach as she sat there for what felt like an eternity, just watching the sun-dappled leaves sway back and forth, casting soft shadows across the polished wood of the table. A sour taste layered itself on her tongue the longer she sat there so, when she couldn't stand sitting there any longer, she shoved away from the table and headed upstairs.
Her room was exactly the way she left it. Her favorite pair of jeans lay across the floor in a heap. Several t-shirts cluttered the path to her over-crowded desk and she sat down on the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh. The familiar baby blues of her bedroom were such a stark contrast to the cream-colored room back in Sacramento and the thought made her throat tight. Heat pulsed behind her eyes, threatening tears again.
She didn't want to cry over some asshole with a stupid, half-smile and daddy issues up the ass but it hurt. Shoving her suitcase carelessly to the floor, she curled up on her bed and pressed her face into the pillows. The silence of the house was even more prevalent than before, pressing down on her ears.
As she drifted off, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number: I hope you're okay, Chloe. I'm so sorry.