Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“I knew you were mad.”
“I’m not mad. I said I’m frustrated. Maybe I’m frustrated at myself.”
“You sound mad.”
Now I’m mad that he’s mad. How did we have a cordial meeting at the hospital after three years and a friendly exchange when he was here a little over an hour earlier?
Shaun gives me a quick glance, concern lining his brow.
“It’s not a good time,” I say to Eric.
Silence.
“Eric.”
“Time. Yeah, it’s never a good time. Listen, I’ll send you a link to the story before it posts so you can approve any quotes.”
“Eric?”
“What?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and lose my nerve. Maybe I lose it because I am mentally sluggish. Maybe I lose it because Shaun can hear me. Or maybe I lose it because I’m not brave enough to say it. “Nothing,” I whisper.
“Bye, Anna.” He disconnects the call.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. What am I doing? I have nothing to lose. This is all on me. I need to own the past and the present.
Staring at my phone for a good ten minutes, I take the first step to right some wrongs.
Anna: My deleted responses:
Anna: Was it a good kiss?
Anna: I was the world’s worst girlfriend. Sorry
Anna: I regret so much that it deserves its own book
Anna: Will I see u again?
Anna: Do u have a girlfriend?
Anna: Do u H8 me?
I wait. And … wait.
Nothing.
If this is payback for leaving him and ghosting him for six months until he stopped trying to contact me, then that’s fair. I deserve it and more.
“Everything okay, Anna?” Shaun asks. “Can I get you something? Yogurt? A sandwich? Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“To which one? Or everything?”
I don’t register anything he’s saying because Eric’s giving me exactly what I deserve—what I’ve deserved for years. I should have been prepared for this but I never thought I’d see him again.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
The following day, I get a message from Eric with a link to the text of the exclusive interview. It’s better than I expected. He makes me sound like a hero. I don’t feel like one. I did what any decent human would do.
Anna: I approve
Anna: Thx for saying so many nice things about me. I don’t feel deserving
Anna has an addictive personality. A kind soul … The shiniest part of humanity … Unforgettable …
Eric: I’ll post it at five tonight
That’s it. A robotic reply void of anything personal. Is the article just for show? For ratings? Does he believe the things he said about me?
I fish for another reply—for anything.
Anna: It was wonderful seeing u
Nothing.
I tell my heart it has no reason to feel blue, but it doesn’t listen. It’s mad too. I paid no attention to it the day I left Eric and hightailed it out of Des Moines. My heart didn’t make that decision, neither did my brain. It was all ego. Egos are the demise of humanity. They’re immune to true emotions and all reason. Egos don’t know how to love. The ego eclipses everything good in life when we let it.
And I let it.
“Hey, honey!” My parents poke their heads into my bedroom.
I blink and clear my throat. “Hey.”
“I’m so sorry we weren’t here when you needed us. I hated knowing you were in surgery or could have …” Mom chokes on her words.
“She’s fine, dear.” Dad rolls his eyes at my mom before hugging me. “But I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers.
“I’ll plan my next bone-breaking accident for when you’re in the country. How was your trip?”
“No. We’re not talking about our trip yet. You tell me everything. What happened? How long will you be in a cast? Did the surgery go okay? Can you still do your job?”
My head explodes from her rapid-fire questions.
Dad waits with Shaun in the living room while Mom helps me wash up and dress. Then I tell them everything, except I leave out the Eric part.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GASP!
I wake in the middle of the night, panicked and fighting for a breath. I’m crawling out of my skin. I need my cast off. It’s … suffocating me.
I need to move my ankle, and I can’t.
I can’t move it, and I can’t stop thinking I need to move it. Never have I felt so out of control—so out of my skin.
“Mom!” My heart races; my body trembles.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Mom rushes into my bedroom from the guest bedroom across the hallway. Shaun steps into the room two steps behind her, pulling a T-shirt over his head.
“Anna?” He sounds as panicked as my mom.
“My foot. My foot! I need to move my foot.” This is the most unnerving feeling. I’d give anything for someone to put me out of my misery. I reach for my foot, nearly falling out of bed.
“Does it hurt?” Mom asks while Shaun inspects my cast.