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)
Thunder booms again.
I shove my stuff into one of the other bedrooms but then head back to the great room. I lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Down the hall, a door clicks shut.
“Hey,” I say to Zach as he lies down next to the couch.
Just the storm.
And the two of us.
And the dark.
Nineteen
Tabitha
The storm eats at the edges of the cabin. Wind rattles the eaves, and rain pelts the glass like it has a grudge. The power stays dead.
I find a few candles in the nightstand drawer, but no matches or lighter.
I sigh.
I guess I’ll have to ask Henry.
I pad out of the master bedroom to find him still in the living room, lying on the couch with Zach on the floor beside him.
He looks peaceful. Sort of. But more than that he looks beautiful. His hair tousled, his eyes staring at the ceiling, the corded muscles of his arms, the tendon in his neck.
“Henry?”
He sits up on the couch. “Storm’s sitting right on top of us,” he says.
“Sounds like it.” My voice is even. Barely.
I sit on an armchair because the couch seems too close. The air between us is heavy and charged. I hate that it’s like this with us, like we don’t know what to say to each other.
“I found some candles in the drawer of the nightstand, but no matches or lighter.”
“Kitchen,” he says. “But don’t light a candle if you’re going to sleep.”
“Of course I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a moron.” I don’t mean to get uppity, but I do anyway. “I thought I’d go through my notes.”
He scoffs. “So much for a relaxing weekend.”
Fuck him. I should get up. Storm out. Go back to the bedroom and study.
But I don’t.
I stay, sitting in the armchair. Silent.
He breaks first. “Why didn’t you come?”
The question lands low, right in my gut. I don’t look at him. “Because you told me we had no future.”
Thunder cracks.
His breath changes. One of those tiny shifts you feel more than hear. He doesn’t talk for a long beat, and in that time, I manage to conjure up every possible thing he could reply with.
“Okay,” he says finally. “Fair.”
It’s not a lie. I also stayed because of the seminar. The opportunity. But the more I tell myself that’s the reason, the more I know that if I felt Henry and I had a future, I would have bolted to his side.
And I both love and hate myself for that.
I rise. “I should get some sleep.”
My phone buzzes with a text. I’m pretty sure it’s Angie. I haven’t texted her since I told her, still in my car, that I’d arrived safely.
She knows. She did all of this. And while I appreciate the thought, right now I don’t want to talk to her.
I look at the phone.
But it’s not a text from Angie.
No pressure. Just checking in. Still would love to meet for coffee if you’re up for it.
Lance.
God, he has terrible timing.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard. Thanks. I’m okay. I could send that. I could send Another time. I could send nothing and be consistent.
So I do that. I can blame it on bad mountain reception.
I head back to the bedroom, toss my phone onto the nightstand, and turn off the lantern. Darkness folds in. The storm presses at the windows. The room feels too big and too small at once. I lie down. Sit up. Lie down again. I stare at the ceiling and count the seconds between lightning and thunder like I did when I was a kid.
It doesn’t help.
I get up, take the phone, and open the door.
Flickering light from the fire washes the hall. I walk softly but then give up on being quiet because the storm is louder than anything else. I round the corner into the great room.
He’s right where I left him, except he’s not. He’s sitting on the floor at the hearth, back against stone, one long leg stretched out, the other bent, arm resting over his knee and petting Zach with his other hand. The scar at his hairline is a clean line. I have the strange desire to kiss it.
He looks at me. “You okay?”
No. “I’m fine.” I stay standing.
He tips his head back against the stone and watches the ceiling. “I asked for you.”
“What?”
“At the hospital.” He doesn’t look at me. “I asked my mom to call you.”
The words ricochet through my head. Same thing we were talking about earlier. “I know. Why, Henry? Why me? I mean, you said we were done, that we had no future, so why would you ask for me?”
“Because you were the only thing that cut through the noise in my mind.” He finally looks at me. He doesn’t smile. “The only thing that made sense to me.” Another pause. “Because I wanted you there.”