Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Inside, the house smells different without Nana in it. Like the walls know something’s wrong. Missing.
After Makena goes to shower, I stand in the kitchen, trying to muster the energy for what comes next, but my body’s still running the shut-down protocol. I don’t want to make sandwiches or eat or talk to Makena over dinner or shower. I don’t even want to go to bed and sleep it off.
I just want to disappear, for my consciousness to be obliterated for a while and then magically come online tomorrow, rebooted and back to something closer to normal.
I drink a beer as I force myself to make food, but the alcohol doesn’t penetrate, either. Thankfully, Makena seems as ready to be done with this day as I am. We barely exchange ten words over dinner, just shove our food in and retreat to the living room, where we watch old episodes of some dumb sitcom until it’s a respectable time to go to bed.
In the dark, I stare at the ceiling, arms at my side instead of wrapped around Makena for the first time since we started the trip.
Which reminds me…
“I’ll need to stay for a while,” I murmur into the shadows. “I can’t head home tomorrow the way we planned. But if you need to get back, I can take you to the airport or the train station, or whatever. I always flew when I came to visit as a kid, but there might be a train to New Orleans.”
“No, it’s fine,” Makena replies. “I’m in no rush to get back. I’ll stay and help with whatever you need, okay? No worries.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say, a sliver of relief snaking across the surface of the ice inside. I reach out, threading my fingers through hers. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been out of it.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says, tightening her grip. “I get it. And I’m here. Lean on me as much or as little as you need.”
The relief spreads, easing some of the tension in my chest. “Thanks. I appreciate you.”
“And I appreciate you,” she says.
We lie in the dark holding hands for a long time, until I eventually close my eyes and sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
MAKENA
Iwake to Parker’s lips on my shoulder and something unclenches in my chest.
“Morning,” he croaks, rough but real.
Yesterday, his voice was flat. Today, it has shape again.
“Hey.” I roll onto my side, scanning his face, further relieved to see the light is back in his eyes. He’s not back to full Parker sparkle yet—understandably—but he’s back.
I smile. He smiles.
Maybe we’re back, too.
“Coffee?” I ask.
“Always.”
In the kitchen, the old Mr. Coffee wheezes while Parker paces nearby, circling like a caffeine-hungry shark. I hop onto the counter beside it, legs bare against the cold Formica, and he steps between them.
“Sorry about yesterday.” His thumb rubs circles on the inside of my knee. “About the…” He makes a vague gesture toward his head, then the door.
“Seriously, it’s fine,” I assure him.
“It’s not, but I appreciate you being cool about it.”
“I’m not cool,” I counter. “Just…game recognizes game, you know?” I gentle my voice as I add, “You know me. I run sometimes, too. And you still like me after.”
His lips twitch as he nods. “I do. I really do.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips that’s part apology, part thank-you, and all the confirmation that I need that I did the right thing by giving him space yesterday.
Maybe I don’t suck at this love thing, after all.
Maybe I can even be as good for him as he’s been for me.
“I’m going to grab a fast shower, just to make my hair less crazy,” he says once we’ve sucked down our first cup of coffee and eaten peanut butter toast to keep our strength up. “Then the hospital?”
“Ready when you are,” I promise.
Thirty minutes later, we pull into the hospital parking garage, level three, and make our way to the cardiac unit. Parker explains we’re here to see Chastity Parker, room 314, and the nurse buzzes us through with a kind smile. “Oh, good, she’ll be thrilled to see you. She’s already awake and seems to be feeling a lot better this morning.”
“Amazing,” I say, grinning up at Parker, who looks equally relieved.
“I knew it,” he whispers as we start down the hall, past other rooms, where several of the patients still seem to be sleeping. “It’s the Parker family rally. It’s legendary. She’ll probably be back at disco yoga in a week.”
I grin. “Disco yoga, huh? That sounds like a lot more fun than the…” I trail off as Parker slows to a stop, his smile falling away. “What’s wrong?”
He looks like he just saw a ghost.
Or Nana on the ground again.
“Shit. Just what I need,” he mutters, nodding down the hall.
I follow his gaze and instantly understand the reason for the abrupt shift in tone.