Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I pull out my phone—the new phone my assistant Cara dropped off for me after a rigorous fight with security to be let through—and scroll to Beau’s number. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I type out a quick text, my question simple on the surface. In reality, it’s a thought mined from deep roots in a healthy system of weeds.
Me: How’s Avery?
Beau: Just being kept overnight for observation. Little dehydrated, but she’s fine. She kicked us out and sent us home—and sent me to get her a new phone. I guess she’s antsy to have her connection to the world of Starbs and nail techs and online shopping back.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She’s fine. Of course she’s fine. Avery’s tougher than anyone I know. Still, knowing she’s just a floor away and not being able to see her feels like some kind of punishment I didn’t earn.
I poise my thumb over the keyboard to tell Beau I’ve already sent Cara back out to get Avery a phone and deliver it to her too, but I am interrupted by a quiet, unsure voice belonging to a woman I hate to admit I’ve completely forgotten about again.
“Henry?”
I look up to see Ashley staring at me. She’s stopped fidgeting with the sheet, her hands now clasped tightly in her lap, and there’s a question in her eyes—one I’m not sure I’m ready to answer.
“Yeah?” I say, forcing my voice to sound even.
She hesitates, her teeth catching on her bottom lip. “Are you okay? You’ve barely said a word since they brought you here, and I understand what you’ve been through is…well, it’s unimaginable. And I don’t want to pressure you, but…”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. It’s a lie, but not for the reasons it should be. I’m not traumatized beyond repair and mute from the experience. Just the opposite. I’ve got things to say—millions of words and phrases and declarations—but my head’s so tangled up in thoughts of Avery that I can’t focus on anything else.
“Henry,” she says softly, leaning forward. She reaches out her hand, resting it lightly on mine. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”
I look at her, really look at her, and guilt hits me square in the chest. She’s trying so hard, and I… I don’t feel anything. Ashley may as well be a stranger off the street for how emotional I am to see her, and even though my reasoning is complex, it’s still fucked up.
She doesn’t deserve this shit, and I need to do the compassionate thing and set her free.
“Ashley,” I start, but the words get caught in my throat. I take a deep breath and try again. “I appreciate everything you’ve been through since I went missing, and I can’t explain how touching it is that you care this much that I’m back. But…enlightenment is a switch I can’t turn off, and I…”
Her expression shifts, worry flashing across her face. “What’s wrong?”
I sit up a little straighter, the IV tugging uncomfortably at my arm. “We’re not right for each other. You are amazing. And so, so right for someone. But you’re not right for me, and I am not right for you.”
Her eyes widen, and she pulls her hand back like she’s been burned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we should end this,” I say, forcing the words out before I can second-guess myself. “It’s not fair to you at all because I can’t give you what you deserve.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and then she laughs, but it’s sharp and humorless. “Is this about her?”
“What?” I ask, caught off guard.
“That girl you were stranded with,” she says, her voice rising. “Avery.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. My silence says everything. I wish I could say I’m surprised by her supposition, but I’m not. Anyone with eyes and an inclination could tell that Avery was the only person I cared about upon arrival.
Ashley stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I waited for you. I was worried sick about you. And you were what? Fucking her?”
It’s both true and completely discrediting at the same time. Avery and I weren’t fucking. We were each other’s everything. Still, I know I’ve brought this on myself, so I don’t bother with words that won’t help to ease the sting in the least. I keep it simple. Succinct. Truthful. Transparently final.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I never meant to hurt you.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Finally, she grabs her bag and turns toward the door. There’s no goodbye, no look back.
The door clicks shut behind her, and just like that, it’s done.
What was once peaceful quiet feels heavier now, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake. It’s sharp, and I ache.