Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“The nurse I talked to last night said the Hunts are taking her body back to San Antonio. Do you know what their plans are? For a funeral or whatever?”
Gert gulps back a sob. “I haven’t heard yet, but I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop.”
“Yeah, please do.” I swallow.
“You okay?” Gert asks.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection. My damp hair is stringy and my nose is red from crying. “I’m dealing. I took a personal day. I didn’t want to, but this is affecting me more than I thought it would. She was so young.”
“I know. It’s horrific.” Gert sighs.
Truth is, had it not been for the appointment with Falcon today, I wouldn’t have asked for a personal day. I’m sad about Ashley, to be sure, but she and I were not close enough to merit a personal day, especially at a brand-new job.
But seeing Falcon…
I just couldn’t do it today.
I couldn’t face him when I might burst into tears at any moment. I could hold back Ashley tears with other parolees, but with Falcon?
And the way he’s treated me?
And the way I’ve treated him?
I don’t even know his whole story, but something tells me he’s not a killer. Not in the least.
Maybe one day he’ll tell me the truth.
But probably not.
Because there’s nothing between us.
“You still there?” Gert asks.
“Yeah, yeah.” I gulp.
“Jordan and I will be going to San Antonio for whatever service they decide to have. This must be killing Tony and Donnie. Ashley was their only child.”
I gulp against the lump that’s been in my throat since I heard the news. “I know. God…”
“So will you be coming?”
“Probably. If it’s on a weekend, I’ll be there for sure. But I’m already taking today. If they choose to have the services during the week, I can’t promise to be there.”
“Sav, come on. You weren’t close, but you should be there. Tony and Donnie love you. San Antonio isn’t that far from Summer Creek. It’d be a day trip.”
She’s right. I should be there. In fact, I should have sucked it up and gone to work today. Too late now, though. The admin has already canceled all my appointments.
“I’ll make it,” I say. “I’ll make it work, whenever they choose to have it.”
“They’ll probably have it on a weekend, anyway. Ash had so many friends, and so many of them are young working people. Tony will think of that. Donnie will be too distraught to, but Tony will.”
She’s babbling. Perhaps Mr. Hunt will be logical about it all. He’s a high-powered executive for a pharmaceutical company, and he works nonstop to keep Ashley and her mom—God, just her mom now—in the life they’ve come accustomed to.
“I’ll be there, Gert. I promise.”
“Okay, good. I’ve got to go, Sav. I’m having a hard time holding it together.”
“I get it. Talk later. And you take care of yourself, okay? Are you working today?”
“Just a half day. I called in this morning. Said I had an appointment because a health issue was acting up.”
“What health issue?” I ask.
“I’ll think of something. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
I end the call and then notice a missed call. Funny that it didn’t click through. Or maybe it came in while I was in the shower and I didn’t notice until now.
I don’t recognize—
But then I do.
It’s Falcon. The number I got off his records on my iPad.
No voicemail though.
Now what? Should I call him back?
My heart thumps as I return the call.
After four rings, it goes to voicemail.
Hey, it’s Falcon Bellamy. That’s right. I’m a free man now. Leave your message and I’ll call you back when I can. Live life, man. Live it every day.
Live life, man. Live it every day.
Interesting.
I open my mouth to respond, and then I close it.
No. I have to say something. I clear my throat, still failing to dislodge the omnipresent lump.
“Hi. It’s Savannah. Savannah Gallo. You called me? I hope you’re okay. Sorry about our appointment today. Bye.”
Good enough. I kept my voice from shaking and everything. Did I keep the despair out of my message? Probably not.
I’m showered, but still in my robe and slippers. My wet hair is beginning to dry, so I hurry to the bathroom to run a brush through it before it becomes a tangled mess.
I’m not beautiful.
I’m pretty, but I’m not beautiful.
Gert is beautiful.
Jordan is bordering on beautiful.
Ashley is—was—beautiful.
I’ve always been the ugly duckling of the bunch.
Sure, I’m pretty, but in the midst of true beauty? Pretty becomes ugly.
The one thing I have going for me is my body. It’s nearly perfect, with a smaller waist and curvy but not too big hips. My boobs are pretty good too. An overflowing C cup. Big enough to catch notice but not too big that they sag or prohibit me from wearing button-down shirts.