Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

okay. I don’t feel okay. I feel stuffed full of things I can’t register, but at the same time, empty. Completely gutted like my insides were scooped out of me. I am uncomfortable, but no matter what I do, I can’t shift it away. I can’t squeeze it out.
    ***
    I can’t do anything but fall into bed and stare at the ceiling. I can’t cry, or smile, or think. Everything and nothing runs through my head, and I’m distanced from it. I’m separate from my thoughts, as if they’re an old cheesy drama playing on screen and I’m just watching. I feel like they’re not my memories, not my experiences, not my feelings, but someone else’s. I hate that person. I hate what she’s done.
    Rolling over and curling into a tight ball, I bury my face in my arms and grab fistfuls of hair in my hands.
    I lay still.
    It gets light.
    I don’t cry. I stare.
    It gets dark.
    I get up only when I absolutely have to.
    My brothers take turns coming to see me. Asking if I’m okay. Telling me that they covered for me with Dad.
    It gets light.
    I sob until I’m void of all emotion.
    It gets dark.
    It’s just sex. It isn’t supposed to be this way.
    I didn’t expect it to be this way.
    I never expected to feel so empty.

CHAPTER 25
    Bentley
    I haven’t seen Graceland since Friday, and her brothers keep telling me she isn’t feeling well. I don’t buy it. Something happened at that party, and I have to see if she’s okay. I shouldn’t want to know. I should be pissed at her for the things she said to me. For the things she’s done to me.
    But I’m not.
    It makes me want to be closer to her. To coax out the real Gracie, to make her see she’s not the person she pretends to be. I get her. The fact that she’s lying to herself makes me feel better. Like I’m not alone. It makes me want to coax out the real me. It makes me want to do the things I want to do and be okay with it. It makes me want to accept that I don’t belong in my world, that I don’t belong here either. But somewhere in between.
    As ridiculous as it sounds, I want us to do it together. To be real together. Stop hiding. Stop running. Stop trying to force it. Just be. Together. See what happens.
    But Gracie doesn’t forgive very easily. I just hope she realizes that she’s not the only one who needs to forgive.
    Fingers snap in front of my eyes, and I almost drop the cup in my hand into the kitchen sink. My eyes focus, and I turn away from the rain-coated window to face Sasha, standing with one hip out, her hands on her waist. Her it’s-so-annoying-when-you-do-that look saturates her features, and I press my lips into an apologetic smile.
    “ Way to listen.” Her voice is whiny and irritated.
    “ Sorry, what did you say?” I don’t have the energy for my sister right now.
    Sasha points over her shoulder. “I said, it moves.”
    My eyes follow to where she’s pointing, and I see Gracie. She shuffles down the long hallway toward the front entrance with a wool blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders and her head angled down. I don’t need to see her face to know that this isn’t ‘sick’. Her stooped shoulders and inability to actually lift her feet while she walks is proof enough. She looks weighed down, dragged out, and basically really damn depressed.
    The part of her that I wish I could wrap up inside myself pulls me from the counter, and I try to follow. Sasha grabs my forearm.
    “ You can’t save her, Bentley. Stop trying to save people. To believe the best in them. She’s no good for you, and you know it.”
    The screen door slams, and I yank my arm back.
    “ No, Sash. I don’t know it. You can never know it. You talk about it like it just happens, like it’s not my choice. If you ever had to put a little effort into anything in your ridiculous existence you might understand that. Some things are worth working for, even if they fall apart in the end.”
    Sasha’s half drawn-on eyebrows go straight up, but she ignores my comment. Like she always does when she hears things she doesn’t like.
    “ Well, I overheard the twins talking about that guy, D or Dom or Derm or something.”
    “ Dermott.”
    “ Whatever. Apparently Gracie’s phone is off, and the guy keeps calling here and being weird. They think something happened between them. Looks like your little perfect worth-it girl is a bit of a slut.”
    Sasha looks satisfied with herself as every muscle in my face, neck, and chest tightens. My heart hammers as I try to figure