Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Or maybe it means she has her path, and you have yours, and the question isn’t about today, but about whether those paths cross again.”
I rub at my temple, feeling the tug of the stitches. “That sounds like hope.”
“It is,” she says simply. “Hope doesn’t have to be foolish. It just has to be honest.”
I lean back, close my eyes, and let the words settle.
Respect. Hurt. Hope.
I let my head fall back against the cushion and close my eyes. “She stayed in Boulder,” I murmur again, as if repeating it will make it sting less. “She couldn’t turn the opportunity down.”
“No,” Aunt Mel agrees. “She couldn’t. That choice isn’t about you, Henry. It’s about who she is.”
I open my eyes and meet Aunt Melanie’s. “I know. She’s strong. But part of me wanted her to be weak. Just once. Weak enough to choose me instead.”
Aunt Mel doesn’t scold me. Doesn’t tell me I’m being selfish. She just nods. “Because you chose her.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I chose her.”
But she didn’t know. She didn’t know that I had decided to go to Boulder for her.
She didn’t know.
And Mom called her, but still…she didn’t know. Mom said I wanted to see her, but she…
God…
The memory rushes in again. Of that last time with her.
I didn’t want to give her a choice. Not then. Every nerve in me screamed to take her fast, to erase the world in a flurry of hard thrusts and gasping breaths. That was how we’d been before. So quick, so desperate, like we were stealing something forbidden.
But that last time I slowed down.
I wanted to lose myself. To bury everything—the guilt, the rage, the ghost of Ralph Normandy—in her body. But instead, I held back. I gave her slow. I gave her more than I’ve ever given anyone.
And I think that’s when she broke me.
“Henry?” Aunt Mel’s voice draws me back.
“She didn’t come,” I say for the umpteenth time. “She stayed in Boulder. And I can’t even hate her for it. Because I respect her too damned much for it.”
Aunt Mel leans forward. “So maybe the real question isn’t whether she chose you this time. Maybe it’s whether you’ll still be standing when she’s ready to choose again.”
Her words slice clean through me.
I don’t answer. I just stare at my hands, remembering the way Tabitha’s skin felt under them, how soft she was, how she clung to me.
And I wonder if hope is enough to get me through.
Fifteen
Tabitha
Angie.
Of course it is.
She should be somewhere in Switzerland right now, Jason’s hand at her back, a glass of something with alcohol in her other hand. Not calling me from her honeymoon.
Her name glows bright, almost accusing.
I swipe. “Angie?”
“Tabs.” Her voice snaps, but there’s a wobble under it. “Why didn’t you call me?”
My stomach tightens. “About what?”
“Don’t,” she says too fast. A breath shudders through the line. “Mom told me. About Henry. The beam. The surgery. The whole thing. I mean, she told me he’d had a slight accident and everything was fine, but she didn’t go into detail until now. And you knew. You didn’t call.”
I lean into the counter. “I didn’t know at first,” I say. “I wasn’t there. I’d already left for Boulder.”
“The seminar,” she says flatly. “Right. Why didn’t you tell me you got in?”
“Well…because you were on your honeymoon.” Duh. Do I have to draw a picture for her?
“I’m happy you got in.” But her voice doesn’t sound happy.
“Eli got a spot too.”
“Great.” Again, her voice falls flat.
“You know what this is for me, Ang. I couldn’t just—”
“Henry asked for you.” Her voice goes sharp. “At the hospital. Like I said, Mom finally told me everything. He asked Mom to call you. She said you didn’t come.”
The words lance through me. The room tilts. “I couldn’t,” I whisper. “Not then. This seminar—”
“—is your future,” she finishes. “But this is my brother.”
I stare at the spot on my contact list where his name used to be.
“Angie…” I start.
“No,” she says, softer but no less firm. “Don’t Angie me. Tell me the truth, Tabs. What happened between you and Henry at the wedding? I know something went on. Why would he want you if it was nothing?”
Heat climbs my throat.
I could lie. I could say it was a misunderstanding, a look that meant less than it seemed. But she’s my best friend, and she’s his sister. She already knows there’s something to know.
“I don’t want to make this harder for you,” I say.
“You’re making it harder by not saying it.” A beat. “Please.”
I sigh, but I offer nothing.
“He told Dad he was driving to Boulder,” she says. “Before the accident. He was going to your apartment. He was already on his way. He just stopped at his place to check it out before making the rest of the drive down.”