Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“That’s terrible.” Mom looks at Dad over the top of her coffee mug.
With a sigh, he lifts his shoulders. “There might be a program or two they could apply for and receive a little assistance.”
The hope that sparks in my chest is new. I can’t remember the last time I felt it. “Do you think somebody at the hospital could tell Emma about it when she comes in for her next treatment?”
“Yeah,” Preston agrees. “It has to sound like it’s coming from the hospital. Not from us.”
Dad’s lips pull into a tight line like he’s disapproving, but he has to know he’s way outnumbered. Otherwise, he wouldn’t finally nod. “All right. I’ll make arrangements to have someone give her the information. But I can’t promise anything more than that.”
“Now I think you boys need to get ready for school,” Mom concludes. It’s so unusual for her to say anything like that anymore that I don’t even think about leaving the kitchen and going upstairs to get changed.
Even if I don’t really feel like we accomplished anything.
“There must be something else we can do for her now,” I decide when we reach the upstairs hallway. Coming to a stop between our bedrooms, I turn to Preston, who looks as unsettled as I feel.
He’s scowling when he turns to me. “What are we supposed to do? I’m all ears.”
The answer is so obvious, and it’s right in front of us. “What if we offer to get her necklace repaired? She has that pouch, right? We could take it to a jeweler.”
“Oh, you mean… this pouch?” I couldn’t be more surprised when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little velvet bag.
“What are you doing with that?”
He blinks hard at me. Like he’s wondering if there’s something wrong with my head. “I always thought I would look good in pearls. What the fuck do you think I’m doing with it?”
“You stole it from her?”
“I’m going to need you to stop and think for a minute.” Rolling his eyes, he shakes the pouch to make the pearls rattle. “I thought we could get them restrung for her. To apologize and all that.” He says it with a tight jaw. His teeth are clenched, too. If I was a stranger, I’d think he’s pissed off.
Maybe he is. Maybe he’s pissed at himself for breaking the necklace. It must have meant everything to her if she crawled around, searching the sidewalk in front of strangers and whatnot. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We can drop it off at the jewelry store in town before we go to school—we should just have time,” I decide, checking my phone. “But we need to hurry.”
“Give me five minutes.” There’s a new feeling in the air when we split up to go to our rooms. Now we have a goal. We can’t undo the past, but we can try to make up for it. And even if it won’t be cheap, it doesn’t matter.
I’m finally starting to figure it out. There are more important things. And the happiness of a new necklace will be worth ten times whatever we spend.
It might make me happy, too.
24
PRESTON
I can’t believe it.
It’s Monday morning, and I’m actually looking forward to going to school.
Texting Emma over the weekend wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter how many times she said she was fine and getting rest or whatever. I need to see her for myself. I need to know.
This was definitely one of those times I regretted sticking to my word. All I wanted was to go to her house and take care of her, whatever it meant. No matter what it took.
Instead, I killed time volunteering, which is almost funny when I look back on it. I went from dreading the idea of spending time at the hospital to being glad I had something to do to keep me occupied.
It’s like I’m addicted to her. She fills my thoughts, my dreams, every minute of every day. Wondering what she’s doing, how she’s feeling, if she’s tired or sick or scared of what the future is going to look like because everything is uncertain. What would it be like, feeling something hanging over me all the time the way she must feel? All those bills sitting by the front door, a symbol of her illness and our broken system. If she turns me into some kind of crusader, I might just laugh myself to death. Since when do I give a shit?
Since now. Since her.
So maybe I drive a little faster than I need to because I’m in a hurry to get to campus. Anticipation is pumping through my veins, making my heart race. I barely recognize myself by the time I park and almost jump out of the truck, ready to search every inch of campus if I have to. I won’t be satisfied until I see her. I know Easton feels the same way. One of those twin things. We don’t have to say a word to understand what the other one is thinking.