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)
I drive myself to the foundation this morning, and I make it without any headache or blurred vision.
Mom wasn’t happy. Dad was a little better after I did okay the past couple of days at work.
But I have to do something, even if working is more tiring than usual.
It’s better than the silence of the ranch house that vibrates in my bones. I can’t sit at Mom’s kitchen table one more morning, pretending to read while I count the seconds between my heartbeats and ask myself why a week feels like a year when your life suddenly has no shape.
I need shape.
The Steel Foundation gives me that.
As soon as I hit my office, my cousin is there once more.
“You here again?”
“Where else would I be?”
“You know where. Home. Resting.”
“Your concern is noted.” I slide into my chair and wake the screen. “Go do whatever it is you do here, Bradley.”
“What I do here is keep my idiot cousin from face-planting in a donor meeting.” He taps his finger on my desk. “Seriously. Two hours. Tops.”
“Eight,” I say again and click into the first proposal.
I answer three emails. Then eight more. At ten a.m., I hop on a call with a rural hospital that needs a grant for mental health services. At ten thirty, I sign five letters thanking people whose checks made last month possible and think about how money is both everything and nothing.
I open the spreadsheet that maps dollars against need and start shifting cells like I’m playing chess. The numbers line up.
At least some things in this world make sense. I can always count on numbers. They never lie. They never leave you for a surgical seminar after you tell them you can’t be in a relationship with them.
Except I guess those numbers line up, too, when I think about it.
Damn.
I bury myself back in the work, desperate to keep all thoughts of Tabitha at bay.
Brad appears in my doorway at noon with a sandwich from the deli on the corner. “Eat. Or I’m calling Aunt Marjorie.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, but I take the sandwich. “Thanks.”
Brad leans on the doorjamb. “Look, man. You’re good at this. At moving money, fixing things. But you’re not fixing you by pretending you’re a spreadsheet.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” I say around a third bite.
He rakes his gaze over me. “Your pupils say otherwise. Also your skin. And your charming personality.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Fuck off.”
He crosses his arms. “For the love of God, Henry, it’s Friday. Go home. Nobody will take your man-card.”
“Fuck off,” I say again.
He rolls his eyes again and leaves. I get ready to take another call when my cell phone buzzes.
Angie? Why is she calling me on her honeymoon? We talked briefly after my surgery, but I told her not to worry and enjoy her trip.
I tap my phone. “What up, sis?”
A pause. “What up?”
Yeah, that didn’t sound like me. But I’m not really me at the moment. I haven’t been since the Ralph situation.
“I told you to enjoy your honeymoon,” I say. “Not check up on me.”
“I haven’t been.”
“But you’ve been calling Mom.”
“Well…”
“Don’t deny it. She told me. Go. Off with you. Ski the Alps or whatever it is you’re doing there.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
“If it’s about anything other than your new husband, then think again.”
She chuckles. “You’re more like yourself, big brother. You seem…better.”
“I’m good. I have a new lease on life after the accident.” It’s not a lie. Not really. I am grateful to be alive.
A pause. Then, “I talked to Tabitha.”
I close my eyes, and there she is. Hair cascading around her shoulders, those gorgeous amber eyes that seem to be able to see right through me. The way she looked at me the night we slowed down, like she couldn’t decide if I was worshiping her or taking her apart, and she didn’t care which as long as I didn’t stop.
I didn’t want to stop. Not then. Not now.
“Oh?” I finally say.
“Yeah. And I don’t know what went on between you two, Henry. I mean, I have an idea, but she didn’t elaborate.”
“Ang, this isn’t something I’m comfortable talking to you about.”
“I know. But I’ll be home soon, and…”
“And what?”
“Nothing, I guess. How are you?”
“Good. I’m back at work. I’m driving and doing well. The headaches are much better. Just a couple of ibuprofen when I need them. And I’m only sleeping at night. My energy is pretty much back.”
“I’m glad, Henry. But you still need to relax. Your body has been through so much, and it’s healing.”
“I’ve had enough relaxing.” Mostly because it only leads to thoughts of Tabitha.
More so than Ralph Normandy lately, which I guess is a good thing.
“What about the house in Dillon?” she says. “No one’s there, and you could grab Zach and relax for the weekend.”
“Mom would have a fit if I were out of her sight for a whole weekend,” I say dryly.