"You really want to pick yourself up, Eleanor?"
I stared at him, my fingers floppy around the edge of the blanket, my mind sluggish from days of barely moving, barely eating. The weight of his question sat between us. Did I? Did I want to be better, or was I just pretending because I was tired of seeing his disappointment? My lips parted, but I hesitated. And then, slowly, I nodded.
Mike studied me, unreadable. He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, his gaze moving toward the ceiling as if debating something. When he finally spoke, his words were unexpected.
"Run away with me. Leave this town."
I saw him blink. I scoffed—a weak, breathy sound barely above a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Mike."
He didn't correct me. He just watched as I shook my head and brushed it away like it
