Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Everything is fine. I had to meet up with a few guys about a side job.”
As soon as I say it, I know it was the wrong thing.
Her shoulders slump. “I’ll see if I can get some shifts this weekend at Ficht’s. I—”
“No, you won’t,” I say abruptly. “That’s not exactly what I meant. Just . . . don’t worry about it, all right? Your job is to focus on Ever. My job is to focus on the rest.”
I see her throat bob and her hands begin to shake. “I’m scared, Crew.”
I grab the armrests of the chair so I won’t stand and grab her. “I know. But we’ll figure it out. Somehow, we’ll figure it out. I promise you.”
“Without the therapy, I don’t know what the odds are. They just said we’d talk about it on Monday when we go in for day one of the chemo, but this was the winning shot . . .”
“I promise you, we will figure this out. I will figure this out. I don’t want you worrying about it now. There’s a chance she won’t even need the therapy, okay?”
She tries to grin, but I know she doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t even really believe me. I don’t know how this is going to play out, other than I will do whatever I have to do to get this baby healthy.
“Let’s stay positive and not fall apart until we hear the doctor out, okay?”
“Just . . .” She looks scared all of a sudden. “Just please don’t leave us, Crew.”
The English language becomes as foreign to me as Arabic. I cannot speak. I know down deep she’s not kidding. She’s been left or turned away by everyone, but I’ll be damned if I’ll fall into that pattern again.
She clears her throat and pulls out a blue bowl that I recognize. She holds it up and smiles. “This was your mom’s. Do you remember?”
“Yeah. I remember her using that to make pancakes sometimes.”
“It was one of the things Gage didn’t want to get rid of. He said the same thing, that she used to make pancakes with it.”
“We didn’t get many home-cooked meals. Pancakes were her specialty.” I laugh.
“She tried to make Gage pancakes the day before she died, but she was so weak,” Julia says and then stops abruptly. “I’m sorry.”
I’ve never talked about her or what happened between us with anyone. When I didn’t come back when Gage called and said she was dying, no one brought it up again. I flew home once she passed, went to the funeral, and then headed back to Minnesota again. Gage never questioned me on it. I think he always knew why I acted how I did. Gage got me in ways that no one else did. No one else ever will.
“Nah, it’s okay,” I say.
“Why didn’t you come back?”
The million-dollar fucking question is now laid grandly at my feet.
I look at her blankly, hoping she’ll apologize again and change the topic. Instead, her big, brown eyes fill with expectancy. She actually waits for a damn answer.
My instincts say to get the fuck out of here. Stand up, walk to the door, and go. My heart says otherwise. Its beats are telling me I’ve done that to her more times than I should’ve, and I can’t do it to her again.
“I don’t know,” I mutter, giving her another chance to change topics.
“Yes, you do.”
I release a ragged breath and try to look at her, but I pull my gaze to the wall instead. I can’t look into those eyes. I know she’s hoping for some beautifully fucked-up answer, something that makes some motherfucking sense and will make her think I’m not a total bastard. The truth isn’t that kind.
“I’m the asshole you think I am.”
“Crew,” she says. She doesn’t continue until I look at her again. “Why didn’t you come home?”
“What does it matter?”
“It just does.”
I think about the hundred reasons, the way they interconnect like a spider web, each reason weaving into the next. I don’t even know where to start.
“I was a disappointment to her.” I sound like a pussy. I know I do.
“You were not.”
“Nah, I was. Remember when I came home?” I cough, trying to decide whether to bring up that she was with Gage then. Choosing not to, I continue, “I was only here for a night. Before I left, she and I talked.”
“And?”
“She was in the kitchen, drinking her tea, and I kissed her on the cheek. I was so fucking pissed off for obvious reasons. I was just going to walk out, but she asked me to sit down. So I did. She just watched me for a while like she did when I was a kid.”
My hands shake at the memory of realizing I had lost every-fucking-thing. College had been a blast: parties, girls, wrestling. But I had started to get the feeling that everything was superficial. The girls, the invites, the friends . . . that all came with winning. What would happen if I lost? Nothing felt real, anymore. Nobody knew who I really was, me included.