Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Warmth envelops me.
“I’m so sorry, Mandy.”
“For what?”
“Everything. I guess I didn’t call you like I promised.”
“It’s okay.”
“Even when I didn’t know who I was, I always knew who you were, Mandy. The other half of me,” his says, his thumb idly moving along my hand as I hold his. “I remembered you before I remembered myself. That’s got to mean something.”
“It means we’re forever friends, Jack. We always have been, and we always will be.” I lean forward and kiss his forehead.
Jack is here. Jack is alive. Jack will be okay. I may never have him the way I want to have him in my life, but he’s here. That’s all that matters.
I can live with us being forever friends.
As long as he’s alive.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jackson
No. That’s not what I meant.
Mandy’s not getting it. Maybe she’s not in love with me. Maybe Frankie’s wrong.
I’m wrong. I got the wrong signals.
So much I want to say to her. So much I can’t find the words for with my brain still not working properly.
“Mandy…”
“I’m here, Jack. Your parents are on the way.”
I close my eyes and sigh. My parents. Good people, and I love them, but I can’t talk to Mandy about our relationship with them here.
Hell. I can’t talk about it here anyway. Not with nurses and doctors and techs walking in all the time, checking on me.
No. It will have to wait till I’m out of here.
Tomorrow.
I close my eyes.
…
When I open my eyes, my parents are here. My mom is sitting where Mandy was, her hand holding on to mine.
“Jack, you’re awake. Thank God.”
“How are you feeling, son?” my father asks.
“I can’t lie. I’ve been better, Dad.”
“Have you filed a police report? Who did this to you?”
“My mind is still fuzzy. I don’t remember a lot of it.”
“Did they have a gun? A knife?” Mom this time, the lioness in her coming out.
She wants all the answers, so she can personally go after whoever did this to her only child.
“I’d tell you if I could, Mom. They attacked me from behind.”
“Fucking cowards.” This from my father.
“It was late. Or should I say early.”
“You shouldn’t be out on the streets alone at night,” Mom says.
“I wasn’t in a seedy part of town. I’ve walked the same route thousands of times.” My eyes close.
“Let him rest, Noreen. He’s okay. That’s all that matters.”
“Where’s Mandy?” I ask, my eyes still closed.
“We sent her home. We’re here now.”
I yawn.
As much as I love my parents, I want Mandy here.
Always.
I want her by my side always.
As more than a BFF.
I want her for everything—as my wife, my lover, the mother of my children. I won’t have any trouble committing now. I figured it out. I figured it all out.
Mandy, why did it take this? Why did it take this to realize what I have?
“When will she come back?” I ask, this time opening my eyes, turning my head, and meeting my mother’s gaze.
“I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
“I’ll call her later.”
“You will get your rest,” Mom says in her I’m your mother and I know what’s best voice.
“I need to talk to Mandy.”
“You can talk to her tomorrow, once you’ve been released. I’ll make sure she comes over.”
“All right. Thanks, Mom.”
I surrender to the fatigue, close my eyes, and fall into slumber.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Amanda
I wake up the next morning, ready to get back to the hospital to see Jack, but his mother calls and tells me they’re bringing him home later in the afternoon. I’m so happy he’s okay. I can deal with the fact that we’ll never be anything more than friends.
After getting some work done and taking Roger on his walk, I decide to take the rest of the day off. I head to Jackson’s with supplies.
I let myself in using his code and walk into his apartment. He has a wonderful kitchen plus a living room, dining room, and two bedrooms. Much nicer than my tiny little one bedroom.
I don’t come here often. He always picks me up, takes me home. He spends more time at my place than I spend at his, which makes no sense, since he has a lot more room, but whatever.
I find a vase in one of his cupboards and arrange the flowers I picked up from a vendor on the street. I throw some cinnamon bark in a pot, bring it to a boil on the stove, and set it to warm.
Then I get to work on my mom’s special chicken soup.
I boil the chicken I picked up at the butcher, add chopped onions, chopped celery, and chopped carrots, along with thyme, sage, and garlic, bring it to a boil, and then let it simmer. The scent of the simmering broth merges with the cinnamon, and Jack’s apartment smells like Christmas.
After the broth has been simmering an hour, I remove the chicken, skim off the fat, and let the meat cool until I can shred it with my fingers without burning them.