Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“It’s an incurable disease, Brad,” I remind him. “Research is really just showing how little a chance anyone has against it,” I add, returning his clinical air. A ripple runs through my stomach as it hits me how I feel nothing inside when I think of her now. It’s like a dream that became a nightmare, watching what you love be eaten away until there’s only a shell. That’s how Lucy’s mom, Cathy, was when she died.
I tried to keep her alive, even long after she passed, with the research and the belief that we’d find a cure or treatment, but I’ve said all my goodbyes and hurt all that I can. I made my peace with Cathy’s death a long time ago. Lucy was just a baby when it happened, so it’s not as if she even has a memory of her mom. Is a man supposed to live his whole life in torment long after the pain’s healed? I don’t think so. I know Cathy wouldn’t want me wasting whatever time I have left by living like a monk walking on eggshells for the rest of my days.
“Sorry, big guy,” Brad says suddenly, “I didn’t mean to… How about we just talk about better things, huh?” he adds, clearing his throat a little, giving me an “all clear” look as he forgives my unprofessional and bizarre performance in his house today. That’s what friends do, right? They forgive and forget. They move on.
“Like dinner?” I ask, my mouth peeling wide once it pegs that he suspects nothing about what’s really been eating me up from the inside, not just since I walked in the door. This has been festering for six months, but if Brad has no clue I’m aching for his daughter, half the battle is won. I just have to get used to being “normal” when Beth’s around. I can’t just imagine myself on top of her every time she’s in the room.
You just got off to a shaky start. Been here five minutes, so take a breath and slow down.
“I’ve had a hankering for ribs all week,” Brad grins, eager to fulfill his promise and talk about better things.
I nod approvingly, even though food is the last thing on my mind, but dammit, if Beth isn’t the first thing out of my mouth and the only thing I want in my mouth right now. “What about Beth?” I hear myself asking aloud. “I mean, does she like ribs?” I add to cover myself.
I know Lucy would eat the rib straight off an animal, but it’s clear to me when I say it that my effort to think or say anything that isn’t all about Beth is gonna be more challenging than I thought.
“Uh, Beth usually gets a salad when we order out,” Brad observes casually, making me frown.
Salad!? How the hell is she supposed to sustain herself on rabbit food? A growing girl needs meat and lots of it. I’m sure I can tempt her to have some of mine when it arrives if all she wants is a salad.
“What was that?” Brad asks, his head tilting rapidly as we hear the front door banging. My instinct is to go check it out—my first and only thought being Beth, of course—but it’s not my house, and she’s not my daughter. Brad moves past me with a sidelong glance, telling me as much though he’s used to a man my size kinda filling up all the space and taking charge whenever anything unexpected happens—even something as innocent as a door banging in the house. I’m forced to let Brad go first, which causes my jaw to clench. My whole body suddenly tenses as Beth reappears in the kitchen.
“What’s goin’ on, honey?” Brad chimes. “Someone else here?”
“Lucy must’ve stepped out for some air,” Beth says, giving an awkward-looking shrug. Brad’s eyes shoot straight at me as he turns, waiting for me to react.
I make a point of keeping my eyes on Brad, eventually shrugging myself. “Probably not a bad idea,” I remark, not meaning to sound like Brad should join Lucy and take a walk.
“We’re ordering ribs,” Brad announces with forced cheerfulness. Beth crimps a smile and nods while I fish my phone out of my pants, speed-dialing Lucy. It goes to voice mail, and I make a point of leaving her a message. “Hey, Luce? I’m worried that you’re unwell and just taking off like that. Gimme a call or come back to Brad’s house, please,” I clip, sounding every bit the father I try hard not to be with her.
If she’s ill, I don’t want her wandering about. I also don’t want any more excitement today. Coming home was supposed to be a happy occasion, and I’m already wondering if I should’ve stayed in London as if six more months of obsessing over her best friend would help. Yeah, right.