Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I want you to tell us if your asshole father is making your life miserable, because I’m not afraid to come down there and break a heart patient’s nose,” Jude had demanded as we pulled up to Newark Airport.
No amount of reassurance seemed to help appease my friends, and they weren’t the only ones. Rafe had texted me last night and called me first thing this morning. He’d asked for my flight numbers and my parents’ address and so I’d texted them over without thinking about it because I had a million things to do in a brief span of time.
I’d promised to let everyone know once I landed, so I did that in the cab as we drove from Denver International Airport.
I hadn’t known what I was expecting to find in Arlo, but he answered the door to the small ranch house, seeming in good spirits. My parents’ small home was on the outskirts of the city in a neighborhood where the properties all sat on generous plots of land surrounded by mountains and trees. The extra land made room for Dawn’s workshop and Arlo’s studio to the back of the property. For two people who said they didn’t hold on to material things, they both made decent money with their art, and making money from art was just about the hardest thing a person could do careerwise.
Arlo greeted me with a hug and gestured me into the house.
It was a mess.
And it smelled.
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. There were half-empty take-out containers littered on the coffee table, dirty dishes covering every inch of the kitchen counters. A sewage smell suggested something was growing mold somewhere.
When I lived with them, I took care of housekeeping. Neither of my parents were neat freaks, but Dawn liked things clean at least. Arlo, apparently, did not.
“When did you say Dawn left?”
Arlo rubbed the nape of his neck, appearing sheepish. “Uh . . . well, yeah, she actually took off about two weeks ago, but I thought she would be back in time for the surgery.”
I shook my head at my selfish mother and my helpless father.
Dropping my bags, I put my hands to my hips. “First things first. This place needs cleaning.”
“Oh, I’m not allowed to do anything strenuous. I’ve barely even lifted a paintbrush,” Arlo drawled.
I studied him, noting the dark circles under his eyes. I’d gotten my strawberry-blond hair and my nose from Arlo, but that was it. He was tall and loose-limbed, his hair long and tied back in a ponytail, and his goatee needed a trim. Arlo was a very good-looking guy and laid-back (most of the time), so I got what Dawn had seen in him. But I was all Dawn except for the hair and nose. My mom and I almost shared the same face except for that button nose I’d inherited from Arlo.
As if he’d read my mind, he smiled at me with fondness. “You look more and more like Dawn every time I see you.”
“Great,” I murmured dryly, looking around at the pit I had to clean. “So . . . she’s not coming back?”
“Not for a few weeks. You know Dawn. I can’t tie that woman’s free spirit down.”
This wasn’t free spirit. Her actions were downright selfish and unkind. “So . . .” I studied Arlo and noted that beyond the dark circles, he looked a little thin. “Why do you need coronary bypass surgery?”
“I had a heart thing a few weeks back, just before Dawn left.”
My own heart thumped hard in my chest. “A heart attack?”
“Yeah, one of those.” He shrugged like it was no big deal and wandered into the kitchen. “You need a drink? I usually have beer to offer, but Doc said I can’t have any before the surgery.”
“Arlo.” I sighed impatiently. “Why did you have a heart attack? You generally eat well and you do yoga with Dawn nearly every day.”
He shrugged again. “It’s some kinda blockage in one of my arteries. They don’t think it was a lifestyle thing that caused it. They think it’s some kinda scarring of the heart tissue that’s happened over years, so they gotta do this to divert the blood flow or something.”
An awful realization hit me. “Is this for life? You mentioned heart disease.”
“Yeah, but they think I got a good chance of living life normally because of my lifestyle. Usually folks need to change their diet, up their exercise, but they said with a few exceptions, like cutting out the beer and pot, I’m doing all right as I am. I’ll miss the fucking pot but I like life more, so I’ll do it, I s’pose.”
I needed to talk to his doctor because I couldn’t trust Arlo’s lackadaisical response to absolutely everything in life. “Okay. What time do we need to be at the hospital tomorrow?”