Montana and Natasha were inseparable. Until the day they weren't.
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Montana Belmonte-Rowe sees her acceptance into Harvard as a fresh start. Still haunted by the tragic death of...
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SWORE WE WOULD NEVER DIE
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IT STILL FEELS A BIT WEIRD TO HAVE MA HERE. Granted, she has seen me in a much worse state, back when Mother died and I was confined to a hospital bed, unable to speak or move my legs (even though only the latter was caused by the accident itself; the doctors all agreed I was too traumatized to speak, while Hayden thought I was simply being a brat), but I'm still a bit embarrassed by everything she has seen since she got here.
She makes me go take a shower, fix my face and put on some nice clothes for us to go out for dinner. I'd be thrilled about it under any other circumstances, but I can't stop thinking about whatever's going on at the hospital after she said Bishop was doing better and I'm still worrying about my studies and how I might be wasting my life.
The streets are strangely quiet for this time of the year, especially around here, and everything feels awfully empty, with us stepping over puddles of water left behind by the rain and fallen leaves that aren't even crunchy. It hurts to breathe when I look up at the cloudy skies, waiting for the rain to come pouring down over us at any given moment, and I really don't want to be outside right now.
She tugs at my sleeve when we stop by a red light, waiting for it to turn green for pedestrians, and I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling like what happened back at my room was certainly enough crying for today—or for the rest of the month, maybe. I feel stupid, though, especially because Bishop is getting better and, technically, I shouldn't be this scared anymore, but there's something in the back of my head that fears there's a valid reason for it.
"I still think we could have called an Uber, or something," Ma points out, and I force myself to look at her, wishing one of us had brought an umbrella, as I'm not really feeling like returning to the campus dripping water out of every pore. "How much walking do we still need to do?"
"Not much," I murmur, swinging back and forth on my heels. "The restaurant I mentioned is nearby and there's already enough traffic in this city without us making it worse."
