Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“I think you should go,” she said to Hale.
“I’d like the chance to talk to you.”
“I believe you’ve said all there is to say.”
“I’m in love with you.”
Inger gasped again. David made a low noise. Oskar growled.
Elsa stared at Hale with her lips parted in shock.
“My dad never touched me,” Hale declared. “Not true. Twice. I remember twice. Once when he hugged me after I got up on my board the first time. And the other was when he was giving me advice on women. I remember everything about that moment because I was twelve and he was treating me like a man, sharing manly advice, and I loved that. I loved sharing time with my dad when he was like that. It didn’t happen often. I know now it didn’t because it was an outfit that didn’t fit. He felt uncomfortable trying to wear it. Like an imposter. But mostly I remember that moment because he touched me. Even though Tom and Genny were always affectionate, touching, hugging, any way they could share they loved you, Dad wasn’t like that, and I didn’t really understand how much I missed it. I needed it. Its absence was a way of life, but I still needed it. I also didn’t understand why he didn’t do it.”
He took in a breath.
No one on those steps moved, but he had everyone’s attention.
Especially Elsa’s.
“Dad had twenty-two broken bones between the ages of two and sixteen.”
David made a sound like he’d been punched.
Inger whispered, “Oh my Lord.”
Oskar grunted, “Fucking hell.”
He barely noticed all of this.
He was focused on the tears filling Elsa’s eyes.
“He’d also had nine concussions,” Hale carried on. “Or at least there were nine that were diagnosed by medical personnel. Before he died, he packed a box specifically for me. You know we had issues in our relationship when he was alive. I thought he was playing mind games with me. I didn’t open it. Tom and Genny were so pissed I did what I did to you, knowing I was hung up on my issues about my dad, they made me open it. His medical records were inside.” He took in another breath and let it out, finishing, “In other words, I know now why he didn’t touch me.”
“Hale—” Elsa started shakily.
“I have more, please, sweetheart, let me get it out,” he requested quietly.
She nodded.
“He hurt my mom. They were separated before I was born and divorced long before I could form coherent thought. You know what he did to her. Everyone does. She hated him for it, and by association, I think she hated me. I didn’t want to do that to a woman, Elsa. I didn’t want to hurt her so badly, she’d live her life mired in that pain, not able to get out. I forgot.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “You forgot what?”
“The conversation when I was twelve. Dad giving me advice on women. He told me not to find a woman whose life revolved around me. He told me to find a Genny. I forgot what he said, but I did what he told me to do. I found a Genny.”
Inger emitted a subdued sob.
David said, “Come on, Oskar. Inside. Let’s give them some room.”
Again, Hale barely noticed this.
Because, as her family vacated the stoop, Elsa moved to sit on the top step.
He heard the door close as he sat down beside her, near, but not touching her.
She was staring at the street, the tears still shining in her eyes, but they didn’t fall down her cheeks.
He was staring at her.
“I hate I hurt you. I fucking hate how I hurt you, baby,” he said vehemently. “But I saw you in that bathroom, bloody and pale and looking terrified, trying to be brave, and it was my shit that put you there—”
“It wasn’t your shit, Hale,” she said to the street.
“No, but it felt like it.”
“Yeah,” she murmured.
“I spent this morning with Tom, Genny and Duncan, talking to my dad’s neurologist in LA.”
She turned to him.
Seeing her face, so close, God, he needed to touch her, kiss her, hold her, absorb her.
He couldn’t live without those blue eyes.
How could he think he could live without those eyes?
Fuck.
He needed those things like breath in that moment, but he didn’t move.
He just spoke.
“Dad had CTE.”
Her body jerked in surprise.
Hale nodded and continued explaining, “He was experiencing some memory loss. Periods of confusion. Depression. The concussions he’d suffered from his parents’ abuse caused irreparable damage to his brain. And his neurologist said he was exhibiting early signs of Parkinson’s.”
It was then she reached out, put her hand on his forearm and tracked it to his hand. She pulled it to his thigh and linked her fingers through his.
Okay, shit.
Thank Christ.
Thank Christ.
Hale curled his fingers into her hand and kept going.