Free Yours: A Forever After Novella by Natasha Thomas Page B

chest.
     
    “No,” I whined. Reaching for the covers, intending to pull them back up and over my head, I gasped when she threw half a bucket of freezing cold water on me.
     
    “Since you’ve given up on personal hygiene, food, sunlight, so pretty much the essentials, I figured I would help you out,” she snaps, dropping the now empty bucket onto the floor.
     
    Yeah, well, what can I say? Those things seemed irrelevant when I was slowly dying of heartbreak. I kept my mouth shut, though, knowing there was no way I could respond to Faye without telling her what was really going on with me.
     
    Faye didn’t take my silence well, throwing up her arms in exasperation, she shouted,
    “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch the strongest, smartest, most beautiful person I know wither away into nothing. I’m sorry you’re hurting, and I’m not even going to pretend to know how you feel, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Harleigh. I love you. Your mom and dad are worried about you. You won’t talk to Dexter or Skye. God, you won’t talk to anyone. And you haven’t eaten in days. Lyric calls every day, dozens of times a day, and it’s only a matter of time before he gives up and comes to check on you in person if you don’t do something to stop that from happening.”
     
    “I know,” I whisper, feeling utterly helpless for the tenth time today.
     
    “If you know, then do something. Start slow. Get up and shower in the morning. Come down and have breakfast with Dante and me. Start getting to know your godson. He’s five weeks old, and he doesn’t even know his favorite aunt yet. Anything, Harleigh. Please,” Faye says, her voice cracking at the end.
     
    The small piece of my heart I hadn’t given to Lyric breaks at the sight of my best friend begging me to start living again, so I do the only thing I can; I promise to stop being such a shithead and try.
     
    It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and most days, I faked the happy smiles I gave Tripp, the laughter I inserted at the appropriate times, and the polite conversation with people when I would have preferred nothing more than to continue suffering alone. But eventually, those occasions got fewer and further between. Eventually, my smiles were real, my laughter wasn’t forced, and I began enjoying talking to people again.
     
    For the most part, I let Faye believe it was her lecture and bucket that made the difference, and I suppose, in a way, it was. It was the wake-up call that jump started my return from the dead. There was a long way to go before I would be truly happy again, if ever, but at least I had hope that maybe one day I could be.
     
    ***** 
     
    “I’m not coming home,” is how I choose to start the conversation with my dad I’ve dreaded having.
     
    Surprising me, dad chuckles, saying,
    “Yeah, baby, I know. Your man set down ground rules before he left. One of them was that you were staying here with him. I don’t want to get into it now, not after what went down today, but soon, me, you, and your mom are going to have to talk about you getting married without telling us, or letting your old man walk you down the aisle.”
     
    The fact that dad’s not angry with me for keeping such a big secret from him is a huge weight off my shoulders. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not jumping for joy or doing cartwheels about it, but he also isn’t digging a hole to bury Lyric in so I’ll consider his reaction one for the win column.
     
    “I’m sorry,” I mutter, wringing my hands together in my lap.
     
    “About what?” Dad asks, his tone tinged with curiosity and the slightest hint of amusement. “Not telling us you’d been dating the boy who’s been attached to you at the hip since you were born or the fact the little shit convinced you to marry him without asking my permission first? Or maybe because you scared the fuck out of me when you up and left home without telling us why?”
     
    “Can I answer,