Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“Then why do I feel so… woozy?” She swallowed and winced, like the mere movement delivered excruciating pain. “And in terrible pain?”
“The medics performed CPR at the villa. The chest compressions broke a rib. It’s more painful than dangerous. In fact, it’s not dangerous at all. Just a discomfort. You can pump more painkillers with this button if you’d like.” I took her hand and guided it to a white remote tucked in the corner of her bed.
Mom gasped a little. Her mouth tumbled open.
She almost squealed when I touched her.
“Sorry.” I drew back. “Did it hurt?”
“N-no.” She shook her head, staring at me, mesmerized. “I just… you touched me, Zach. You never touch anyone. Not since your father passed away.”
“Farrow taught me skin-to-skin.” I smiled, somewhere between bitter and nostalgic. “There was a lot of trial and error.”
Awkward moments.
Joyful moments.
And I cherished every single one of them.
Tears hung from the tips of her lower lashes.
“Can I…” Her hands shook all over. “Can I hold your hand? I’ve always wanted to.”
But she didn’t wait for permission. She clasped my palm and laced our fingers together. Dry, cold skin met mine.
I remained utterly still as she brought the back of my hand to her icy chapped lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
An unpleasant tremor rolled through me, but I didn’t cower, nor did I retreat. Didn’t want to hurl myself into the shower and jack up the temperature to that of a boiling kettle.
Guess I was cured.
Funny, how I’d always imagined all my problems would go away if I just learned how to touch. It never occurred to me that touching came hand-in-hand with feelings.
And the only person whose touch I craved was thousands of miles away, on a different continent, probably picking a fight with a crocodile just to show herself that she could.
Mom began full-out bawling.
“She did this?” I could barely make out her hoarse whisper. “She made you touch again?”
“Yes.”
You have no idea. She taught me more than I could ever hope to learn.
“But… how?”
The news must’ve broken a piece of her brain.
She’d sunk an entire mega-mansion down payment into psychologists, therapists, doctors, and even hypnotists. Specialists from all over the world. The best in their fields.
None of them had ever managed to help me.
Not even a little.
“It’s simple.” I drew my hand from her grip. “She made touching her utterly irresistible. She showed me warmth, and courage, and a passion for life I’ve never seen before. She made me forget about work. About empty achievements. She made me…” I flashed back to my time with Farrow. A small smile formed on my lips. “She made me eat junk food. And drink shitty beer.”
“Oh, Zachary.” Mom sounded equal parts appalled and amused. “That is extremely unpalatable.” She paused, the makings of a grin starting to spread. “But did it make you happy?”
“It made me thrilled. Before Farrow, I’d forgotten how to be happy. I would give anything to bring her back.”
Mom peered down at her blanketed legs. A wrinkle creased the gap between her brows. The woman who tore through thousand-dollar face masks had aged a decade in mere hours.
She looked helpless against the world.
“I need to tell you something, Zachary.”
I stared at her in silence.
I hadn’t lied when I’d told Farrow I thought someone in the universe was messing with me. My flight would leave in ninety-seven minutes.
The countdown ticked by the second.
Meanwhile, I sat in the middle of a deathbed confession, sans the deathbed. Such a cruel trick from fate that, despite endless opportunities to have this discussion at home, we’d chosen to debate weather and stocks over bland lunches.
“What is it?”
“I…” Mom brought her fist to her lips to suppress a cough. Blue-and-purple veins ran on the back of her hand like a familiar map. “I respect Farrow for handling the way I treated her well.”
“Beyond the attempted bribe?”
Yes, I’d witnessed that. Through the bay windows on Farrow’s first day.
The sight of her declining the check had stirred curiosity in me.
“Yes. A few petty tricks to get her off your back.” Mom stared at her covered feet. “She fended them off well.”
“She’s strong like that.”
Perhaps I should’ve been angry.
I wasn’t.
For starters, I expected it. In fact, I’d anticipated worse.
Secondly, Farrow Ballantine could hold her own. She thrived on tiny victories. It would be pointless to fight every battle for her when everything that made Octi the woman I loved could be summed up with her heart.
Strong, vibrant, steel-coated, and warm.
Mom paused. “She declined the money, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Her deal with you was probably more lucrative than what I offered.”
“I know that, too.”
“And you don’t find her to be a gold digger?”
“No.” I left no room for doubt in my voice.
Question answered.
Case closed.
If she pressed, I’d make good on my threat and leave. Permanently.
“I don’t think she’s a gold digger either.” Mom fingered the cannula in her hand, not meeting my eyes. “But that’s not my point.”