Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Each time they drove through a new city or saw a sign that Kent knew something about, he asked if she wanted to stop. The answer was no, even when it came to food. He felt like he was on this trip alone at times, and he wanted to shake her out of her funk. The thing was, he didn’t fully understand her mindset or how she felt. Palmer knew her body better than anyone, and if she felt herself slipping away, piece by piece, then he had to respect her decisions. Even when it broke him. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
Kent drove for eight hours and then stopped for the night. Palmer didn’t fight him when he got the wheelchair out and pushed her through the lobby. She had lost a lot of spunk since her body had started deteriorating at their last stop. He wanted to help her, revive her somehow, but he wasn’t sure how.
He also wasn’t sure if some of this new, despondent Palmer was a result of meeting her sister, or if her spirit was ready to give up now that she’d fulfilled her biggest quest. Palmer knew where she was from and what had happened to her, and the person she longed for the most had already passed away. Palmer could be ready to meet her mom in the next realm, and there wasn’t anything Kent could do about it.
After they settled in their room, Kent took a long hot shower. His bones ached and his back was stiff from driving. Jeeps weren’t known for their comfort, and driving across the country was taking its toll on his body. Of course, sleeping in a different bed every night wasn’t helping either. Never mind the added stress of Palmer. He wanted what was best for her but was at a loss about what that was.
“I think I’m going to book us a flight home,” he said after he got out of the shower. Palmer perked up and glanced at him. Again, he’d come out of the bathroom with nothing more than a towel on because he knew this would get her attention.
She put her journal aside. “Why?”
He shrugged. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that. “You’re not having a good time.” Kent looked through his suitcase and found shorts, boxers, and a T-shirt. They would have a chance to do laundry again when they made it to Raúl’s tomorrow. He turned and went back to the bathroom. When he came out again, Palmer was waiting for him.
“I know I’ve been moody.”
Kent nodded.
“I feel weak. Both physically and mentally. It’s like a darkness took over after we met Courtney. I know I’ve talked to you about dying and having this tumor, but to say it to someone else . . .” Palmer paused and shook her head. “It feels final,” she said quietly. “It feels like I have nothing left.”
Kent sat on the edge of the bed next to her and brushed her hair behind her ear. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me you don’t want me around anymore.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Kent nodded. “I hear there’s this great place called Saltgrass Steak House. What do you say we go there for dinner?”
“I’m not really hungry,” she told him.
“I get that, but you can’t take your meds on an empty stomach, and if you don’t start eating, we’ll have to go back to San Francisco because you’ll need a feeding tube.” The last part was a scare tactic, although he suspected that once Dr. Hughes took one look at how much weight Palmer had lost, she’d recommend hospice care until the end. Kent couldn’t do that to Palmer. He knew, without her having to say the words, she didn’t want to die in the hospital. Where she wanted to die or what she wanted to do with her body remained a mystery to him. As much as he needed to broach the subject with her, he couldn’t bring himself to have that talk. To him, it would make things more final than they already felt.
Palmer went to shower, and for the first time since the mirror incident, Kent wouldn’t need to wash her hair, which made him a bit sad. He enjoyed taking care of her. He sat in the hallway and waited for her, listening to her blow-dry her hair. When she opened the door and asked him to help her with her curling iron, he jumped at the opportunity. Once he finished, he excused himself and sat on the bed while she dressed.
“You’re so beautiful.” The words were out of Kent’s mouth before he could change them to something like “You look pretty” or “You look nice.” He meant what he said. She was beautiful, and she made his heart do things he hadn’t felt in a long time—if ever. Somewhere along the Loneliest Highway, he had fallen in love with her. Kent should tell her. He owed it to her to let her know she’d done that to him. For him.