Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
* * *
Monday evening Ansel came home to find the apartment filled with boxes. He dropped his bag near the door. It was too soon to start packing. He was still trying to change Mr. Policek’s mind, and even if he couldn’t, they hadn’t yet found another place to live.
“What’s going on?” he asked Ange, who was carrying another container out of her room. She dropped it on top of the counter and sighed.
“I’m moving out.”
“What do you mean? We don’t have anywhere to go.”
Ange pushed her sweat-matted hair off her face and looked at the floor. “I’m moving in with a coworker.”
Her reply was the last thing he’d expected. “Ange.” He took a step toward her.
“It’s been a long time coming, I should have moved as soon as I got the assignment in Brooklyn.” She shook her head. “I just...I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’m sorry, I fucked up. I know I did.”
“Yeah, but I’m not leaving to punish you. It’s the best choice for me.”
“Being away from me is the best choice? We’re family.” How could this be happening? Ange was like his sister. They’d lived together for years and now she was going to leave him alone? It was like losing his brother all over again, like losing Ray...and Fitch.
She turned to face him, her hip resting on the island separating the kitchenette from the rest of the room. “No, don’t twist my words. You know I love you. But Kelly offered me a room when I first started. She lives real close to the hospital so it will be so much easier to get to work.”
“If you need to be closer to work, fine. We’ll find a place together.” He tightened his arms around his middle, fighting the tremble that had taken over his body.
She shook her head and fiddled with an imperfection in the laminated countertop. “You need to be here, close to the club, your job. It would be just as bad for you to trek all the way to Brooklyn and back every day.”
“I don’t care. I would do it.”
The corner of her mouth tipped up even as her chin wobbled. “I know you would. You’re the best, truly. I love you.”
“Then why are you leaving?” His voice was thick with emotion he didn’t try to hide.
Ange took a deep breath, swallowed, but didn’t look at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He scrubbed his face, not caring that he smeared his makeup. “God, I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot.”
“I don’t want to worry about finding you sick or injured or—” She broke off and he knew she was remembering Ray.
“Ange.” He hugged her while she shook.
“One day he was there and the next he wasn’t. It was like I was going through the same fucking thing with you. I can’t do it again. I need to stay focused.”
He didn’t reply. The knife in his heart had sliced open his throat and he was bleeding on the inside.
“I’m not Ray,” he finally choked out. “I’m not going to kill myself.”
He felt the shake of her head. “No, but you’ve got a problem, just like he did. You may not do it intentionally, but you live so violently. I worry about you every day.”
“You don’t have to worry.”
“I can’t stop myself. You need help, real help.”
“I’m fine.”
She pulled away, face scrunched in anger. “You are not fine. I know something happened to you, something you haven’t told anyone. You think I can’t tell when something is bothering you?” She pushed his shoulders and stormed down the hall.
“Ange.” He followed.
She spun. “I’m moving out, Ansel, but I will never stop caring. I love you too fucking much.”
He stopped. “I love you too.”
“I know. You love me. You love Z, you love Lirim, you love Tam, you loved Ray. I even thought you might start to love the guy you were seeing—but you don’t love yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Honey, you haven’t touched your food. Are you feeling okay?”
Fitch looked up from his plate of Chicken Parmesan and met his mother’s concerned gaze across the table. “Yeah, Ma, I’m good.”
“Did I burn it?” Her brow creased.
“It’s perfect, like always.” He stuffed a forkful into his mouth.
“Leave the boy alone, Margie,” his dad said with a pat to her hand. “He’s probably still lost in work, right, son? I used to do the same thing.”
He took the excuse offered and nodded. His mother didn’t seem to buy it, but she didn’t question him when he took another bite.
The truth was he hadn’t thought about work since seeing Ansel. He’d been walking in a haze. The only things on his mind were the haunting green eyes he missed so much. He’d spent the afternoon holding his mom’s hand while his dad got checked out by the doctor. The news that his father wasn’t suffering from something serious should have made the queasy, empty feeling in his chest go away. But his dad’s problems were treatable and the hollowness in Fitch remained.