Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“I can’t leave him now,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper. “What if I leave and he wakes up and I’m not here? What if he stops—stops breathing?”
Patton flinches, a movement so small I almost don’t see it.
“He won’t,” he growls firmly.
“You don’t know that.”
“You said he’s stable, right? When do they think he’ll wake up?”
“…I don’t know. Not before morning, I’m sure.”
“And they’re checking him. Constantly. Plus, my mom will call us the second anything changes. I’m sure of it.”
Nothing’s guaranteed, but he takes my hands and links his fingers with mine.
“Will you trust me? I’m trying to help,” he whispers, his blue eyes fixed on my face. The same cutting midnight-blue eyes Arlo inherited. “And you need to be well for him.”
If I speak again, I’m definitely going to cry, so I just nod and let him guide me up to my feet.
One hand remains around my waist, steadying me like he knows I might keel over if he stops holding me up.
Warmth blooms under his touch despite my resistance.
He’s too good at making me feel less alone.
Ugh, I need to get my feelings in order.
I’m still annoyed at him for leaving me. And I’m doubly annoyed at him for taking me away from Arlo, even though common sense tells me I should at least eat with my stomach growling like a wolf.
One tiny break can’t hurt, can it?
I can feel my heart ripping as we walk away from Arlo. Delly meets us down the hallway, her usually bright smile dim and twisted.
“Oh, my darling!” She hugs me quickly, holding me tighter than her small frame should. “I’m so sorry. I have no earthly idea what happened to that poor little boy.”
“It’s okay. I don’t blame you at all,” I say.
“I do. He ate something at my house.” Her face crumples.
“That’s not your fault, Mom,” Patton says quietly.
“How do you know?” Delly turns to him, and for the first time I notice the way her mascara isn’t picture perfect beneath her eyes. It’s been running, the same with the foundation on her cheeks where tears must’ve cut a recent trail.
“We’ll have answers soon,” Patton promises, though his expression doesn’t ease. “Look, we need to go, Mom. She needs dinner and Arlo needs someone with him. Can you do that?”
“Gladly.” Delly gives Patton a perfumed kiss on the cheek, and then it’s my turn. “I’ll call you the instant anything changes.”
“Thank you.” Patton reaches for my hand again.
Soon, we find out the cafeteria just closed, so we leave the hospital holding hands. The cold wind beating me in the face is another shock, and he throws his heavier coat over my shoulders.
My chest aches. Anger and resentment and affection battle, turning my guts into knots, and I don’t know which one will win.
To my surprise, he doesn’t take me to his house.
He brings me to my apartment. A brutal lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe the second I look around.
Arlo’s toys are scattered across the floor. The bowl from pancakes this morning is still in the sink.
Oh, if only I’d taken a rain check and had that brunch with Delly another time.
It all feels so long ago.
I don’t think I can hold it together.
Patton slides an arm around my back, and for the second time since hearing the news, I’m in his arms. He holds me tight, almost until I can’t breathe, and that’s a good thing.
But I can’t relax into him with all the unsaid things between us.
He pulls away like he senses it, leaving one hand lingering by my hip.
“You should eat first. Then we’ll talk,” he says.
“I want to talk now.”
His eyes are dark pools at night, almost pained with shadows, but he nods.
“Okay. But at least let me make you food.”
My kitchen is a mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he finds a knife and a cutting board. A companionable silence falls over us with his rhythmic chopping.
I sit on the sofa where we first kissed.
This cramped, beat-up apartment feels dizzy with memories.
“I’m sorry for leaving,” he says eventually. “I know how bad you wanted me to stay.”
I rub my eyes. If there was any makeup smudged there, it’s long gone. “I didn’t want to be alone, Patton.”
“I know.”
“And you left.”
“I had to. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I’m sorry,” he growls, sighing heavily. “I think my efforts paid off. I know who did it, and I couldn’t tell you in front of Mom.”
Huh?
My head whips up. I stare at his back and the bunched muscles moving under his shirt as he chops vegetables. The world feels almost too enormous as I reach down inside and pull up a single word.
“Who?”
“Evelyn Hibbing. Goddamn her.” His voice is pure violence.
“Wait, what?” I sit up straighter. “No way, you—you can’t be serious. She’s just a harmless old lady. She’s just—” I stop cold.