Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Did Henry tell her?
No. He wouldn’t have had time. Angie and Jason were probably gone by the time he rose that Sunday.
My guess is the family chose not to bother Angie during her honeymoon. They no doubt told her Henry was fine and there was no need to rush home.
Which is all true.
Though it was probably touch and go for a while. Thank God for Zach. Zach the wonder dog, who alerted Marjorie and Bryce to Henry’s situation at his home under construction.
I shake my head, trying to clear away the troubling thoughts. Right now, I need to focus on what’s ahead and leave the past in the past.
Another afternoon of studying. We have lecture tomorrow morning, labs in the afternoon. And then, the weekend. But there won’t be any rest for me. Not with the exam inching closer with every passing day.
As I walk into my apartment, I can’t help but look at my phone again, half expecting a call from Marjorie. But my screen remains stubbornly notification-free.
I sit back down at my desk, ready to tackle the books again, when—
My phone buzzes on the countertop, the sound startling me out of my thoughts.
When I see who it is, my heart jolts.
Fourteen
Henry
Two weeks out from surgery. I’m still not supposed to drive, so Mom asked Aunt Melanie to come over for lunch.
Right.
She’s actually arranging a therapy session for me. Nice try, Mom.
Mom and Anya prepare all my favorites for lunch.
I’m so tempted to call Tabitha, but I don’t want to be that guy. I’m still a mess, now physically as well as emotionally. My body will heal—is healing, and healing well—but my heart?
How did I let this happen?
How did I fall in love with Tabitha in a span of two days, when I was still reeling from taking Ralph’s life?
I’ve been over and over this in my mind.
What the hell?
Maybe Aunt Mel can help me figure it out.
The smell of rosemary chicken and sourdough rolls drifts from the kitchen to my room.
That’s my cue.
“Come on, boy,” I say to Zach.
I showered this morning and put on actual clothes instead of sweats. Zach and I amble to the kitchen where Mom has set the table with her good linens and silver.
In the kitchen.
That’s Mom, though. Making this ceremonial.
Anya sets out glasses of iced tea.
Aunt Melanie arrives a few minutes later. She sweeps into the room looking beautiful as usual, her silver hair swept up with a green scarf that matches her eyes.
“Henry.” She leans down and hugs me. “You look good.”
“Thanks, Aunt Mel. You too.”
She studies me, eyes sharp, before sliding into the chair beside mine. “And your head? Is it still aching?”
Only when I think too much. Not what she wants to hear, though. “It’s a lot better. No more Percocet, thank God. That shit stops me up like nothing else.”
She laughs.
Because of course she does. What else can you do when your nephew tells you he’s constipated?
“TMI, Henry,” Mom says as she brings the chicken and sets it in the middle of the table. But I can tell from the sparkle in her eyes that she’s amused too. She takes her seat, and we start on lunch.
“So,” Aunt Mel says, spearing a green bean with her fork. “Two weeks back home. How are you really?”
I glance at Mom. She pretends not to listen, but her fork pauses midair. Dad’s at work, and Mom dismissed Anya. It’s just the three of us.
“Fine,” I say. “The doc says I can drive now, short distances. So I’ll be heading back to work next week.”
“I still think it’s too soon,” Mom presses.
I resist rolling my eyes. “I need to do something,” I tell her. “Sitting here alone with my thoughts is beginning to drive me a little bit crazy.”
Mom simply sighs.
I set down my fork and look at Aunt Melanie. “I get what you’re asking. I’m alive. Zach saved my ass. My head is much better, and my hair is growing back. That’s the medical version. The truth?” I drag in a breath. “I’m restless. I’m angry at myself. And I keep thinking about things I shouldn’t.”
Mom smiles and rises, taking her plate. “I’m going to eat in the dining room. You two go ahead and talk.”
I shake my head. “You know I always love to see you, Aunt Mel, so please don’t feel like you have to give me therapy just because Mom invited you over here to give me therapy.”
“She’s just concerned,” Aunt Mel says.
“I know.”
“Do you want to talk?” Aunt Mel leans in. “About the accident? About the shooting? About…Tabitha?”
Her name slams into me harder than the beam did. I look up sharply. “She didn’t come. I told Mom to call her and ask her to come, but she didn’t.”
“Yes, I know.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Great. So now it’s a family story.”