Read Let Me Know for Free Online Page B

heavier in a few hours. “I hope he gets here before the storm.”
    I slide open my dresser drawer. “I’m making him dinner. Or at least I’m trying to.” I remove my long-sleeved T-shirt and basketball shorts. The shorts that at one time I wouldn’t wear because of my scarred leg. The scars are still there, but they don’t bother me like they once did. “I don’t know what to make. All I know is I want it to be something special.”
    Emma giggles and flops onto my striped black-and-fuchsia bedding. “You can’t cook.”
    I throw her a disgruntled glare. “Sure I can.”
    She laughs harder. “Do you remember how you tried to make a grilled-cheese sandwich and almost burned down the house? And what about when you tried to make Jell-O and it wouldn’t set.”
    “How was I supposed to know that kiwi prevents Jell-O from setting?”
    “It’s on the box. Face it, of the three of us, only Trent knew how to...” Her voice fades away. Then she brightens but there’s a false glow to it. We’re both trying. We’re both struggling. We’re both grasping for anything to dull the pain.
    “I can help,” she says. “I bet we can come up with something to keep you from looking incompetent.”
    I huff. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
    She giggles again then sighs, the wistful note clear and heavy. “You’re lucky Marcus is coming. Liam wanted to spend Christmas with me, but being with his family is big for him. They’ve always been close.”
    “Your family’s close too.” While growing up, Michael and I practically lived with Emma and Trent’s family, especially during the summers. Often we went camping with them since camping was something Mom wasn’t interested in doing. Work always came first.
    “They haven’t been the same since Trent’s death.” Emma traces her finger along the wide stripes on my comforter. “It’s been hard on them with me gone.”
    I sit next to her. “Are they going to therapy?”
    “I dunno. It’s not something we discuss.”
    “Maybe you should. Before things get worse. My mom’s seeing someone.” At Emma’s confused expression, I clarify. “A therapist. She started drinking again because of what happened. She eventually realized she was screwing her life up, and went back to AA. She said the therapist is helping her cope with everything.” And is helping her deal with her own heavy dose of self-blame. I blamed myself for a long time for Trent’s and Michael’s deaths. She blamed herself for that and for not being able to protect me when Paul stalked me. She also had to deal with tons of guilt for turning her back on me because of a misunderstanding between us after I was found alive. A misunderstanding that drove a king-sized wedge between us, all because she thought I hated her for not protecting me and the ones we loved and lost. But I hadn’t hated her. I’d been spending all my time at Grandma’s house, taking care of Smoky, who’d also suffered at Paul’s hands while we were held captive.
    “I just don’t know how to bring it up with them,” Emma says. “‘Hey Mom and Dad, since you’re all messed up, maybe you should consider therapy.’”
    I snort. “Maybe not with those words, but it wouldn’t hurt bringing it up. You were seeing a counselor, and it helped, right?”
    She nods.
    “Then tell them that. Do they even know you were going?”
    “It’s never come up.”
    “Then it’s time to bring it up.” I push myself off the bed and hold out my hand to her. “Help me find a recipe. I need to buy groceries after the gym.”
    It doesn’t take us long to locate one that sounds delicious and not too hard to make. I check that Mom has everything I need, then Emma drives us to the sports center. Despite my craving to push myself hard, to punish myself for what happened last spring, I manage to rein it in—like I promised Marcus and my therapist.
    We warm up on the treadmill before hitting the mats to stretch.
    “I wish you were on the