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)
We’ve switched places. She was on the edge earlier. Now I am.
“Breathe with me.” Tabitha strokes my forehead.
I try. In through the nose, out through the mouth. My ribs loosen just enough to let air through.
She doesn’t press questions. Doesn’t ask what I saw.
She doesn’t have to. She knows.
I grab her hand before I can think better of it, pressing it harder against my chest like it’s the only tether I’ve got. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not. Where would I go? It’s the middle of the night.”
Something in my chest shifts. It’s pain and relief tangled together.
I want to tell her everything. About how shooting Ralph Normandy still haunts me, about how I lay immobile after the beam struck me, how I heard Zach there, until he wasn’t. About Francine, our conversations that went nowhere but still left me exhausted. About the way her voice left me gutted but also grateful.
I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t know how to carry all this weight and love her at the same time.
The words don’t make it out.
Instead, I let her curl against me, her head fitting just under my chin, her breath warm against my skin. I hold her like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I don’t.
And when I finally doze off again, she’s the last thing I feel.
Thirty-One
Tabitha
I wake up to the sun streaming into the cabin.
The sun!
I’m so sick of rain. Colorado is supposed to have over three hundred days of sunshine per year. I feel like all I’ve experienced is rain and thunder the past two days.
I turn, expecting to see Henry beside me, but he’s not there. I rise, go to the bathroom, and then head into the kitchen.
Ah. A note from Henry.
Hey,
I took Zach out for a quick walk. Needed to shake the noise loose. Back soon.
H
Needed to shake the noise loose.
I get it.
I walk back into the master bedroom and take a quick shower. Then I dress in jeans and a yellow T-shirt and return to the kitchen.
Still no Henry and Zach.
I could make some breakfast, I guess. Surprise him when he gets back. But I don’t know how long he’ll be gone. Eggs take about two minutes to cook, and they get cold quickly. Best to wait.
I boil some water for tea, make a quick mugful, and then sit down at the table with my tablet and notes.
Scalpel handle number three. Adsons with teeth. Kelly, Crile, Metz.
Henry.
The way he held me last night.
The ragged sound of his breathing when the dreams found him.
Focus.
I switch to knot practice with the suturing thread I brought. Loop, twist, pull flat, snug, tails even. On the third one, the loop slips. It shouldn’t. I redo it. The fourth is better, the fifth clean, the sixth too tight, the seventh a mess.
“Fuck!” I say out loud.
My phone is face down by my notes. It’s been quiet all morning, which is good.
Lance’s last text is still there.
Checking in again. Still up for coffee?
I don’t owe him anything. He doesn’t owe me anything.
A soft whine at the door. Zach. I open it, and he trots in, drinks from his bowl, and then heads to the rug by the hearth and collapses with a thud. Henry follows a beat later, hair windswept. He glances at my spread of notes, at the failed knot.
“Want breakfast?” he asks.
“Sure. There’s hot water for tea.” I clear my throat. “I was going to make something, but I didn’t know how long you’d be.” I gaze out the window. “I figure I should get on the road pretty soon.”
“It’s early yet,” he replies.
True, and he has a longer drive than I do. Then again, he doesn’t have to leave. This is his family’s place. He can probably do his job remotely. He doesn’t have surgical seminar tomorrow. We’re starting work with cadavers. You kind of have to be in the physical space to do that.
“You want me to cook?” I ask.
“No, don’t break your concentration. I’ll make us something.”
I nod.
He pulls out a cast-iron skillet and lays strips of bacon in it. Then he slices from a loaf of sourdough. A moment later, I inhale the delicious scent of smoky pork.
I bend over my notes until the words blur. My phone buzzing is a welcome respite.
God, please don’t be Lance.
It’s not.
It’s Angie.
It buzzes once more as I stand and walk back to the master bedroom. “Hey.”
“Tabs.” Her voice is warm and too bright. “Am I…catching you at a bad time?”
Yes, I want to say. Instead, “No. Just studying.” While your brother, who I’ve been fucking all weekend, cooks us breakfast.
“Studying? You’re supposed to be relaxing at the cabin.”
“I am. At the cabin, I mean.”
A pause. Is she waiting for me to mention Henry? Not going to do it. That will have to come from her.
“So…how do you like it?”