Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I stop at the door and watch him through the window for a moment. He’s lying in bed and watching the television, seemingly happy as a clam.
I mean, he is happy because, thankfully, he doesn’t remember to be sad. I brace myself and then knock softly. “Come in,” he calls.
“Hello.” I smile as I open the door. “How are you, Mr. James?”
“Good.” He keeps watching television. I glance up to see it’s a football game tonight.
I replace his towels and straighten his blankets. “Have you had a good day?”
“It was okay.” His eyes stay focused on the screen. “Better if that damn cat stopped scratching.”
I smile and fold the blanket up at his feet. “He’s annoying, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea,” he grumbles. “Getting on my last nerve.”
I smile, and something about Mr. James makes me feel better. I’m really missing my parents this week.
The phone on the bedside rings, and I glance at it.
“Get that, please,” he says casually.
“But . . .”
“Answer the damn phone,” he demands. “Push the talk button.”
I pick up the phone and hit speaker. I hear Henley’s voice. “Hi, Dad.”
Emotion fills me at the sound of his voice.
“Who’s that?” Mr. James replies.
“It’s Henley.”
Mr. James’s eyes light up. “Henley.” He smiles. “Did you go to preschool today, son?”
“Not today, Dad,” Henley replies.
My heart aches for him.
“Tell your mother to come and bring me home.”
“Okay.” Henley’s voice is soft, sad.
“Ask him if he’s all right,” I whisper to Mr. James.
He frowns.
“Ask him if he’s all right,” I repeat.
“Are you all right, Hen?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Had better days, I guess.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can hear the sadness in his voice.
“What did you have for dinner?” Henley asks.
“They haven’t fed me yet.”
I look over to the empty dinner plates on the table that are still waiting to be collected.
“You would have had dinner, Dad. You just forgot,” Henley tells him.
“Nope. I’m starving. Put your mother on the phone.”
“She’s busy right now.”
“Is she coming to get me or not?” he snaps.
“Soon,” Henley says.
I smile. He’s so patient with him.
“I love you, Dad,” Henley says softly.
My heart constricts.
Mr. James nods but doesn’t reply.
“Say it back,” I whisper.
“Huh?”
“Say it back,” I repeat.
“Say what back?” he grumbles.
Fuck’s sake . . .
“I’ll let you go,” Henley says.
“You go back to school, Hen. Be a good boy now. We’ll build something when you get home.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
I smile as I listen.
“Bye, Dad.” The phone goes dead as he hangs up.
I slouch onto the bed, disappointed that Henley didn’t get his I love you back. Which is ridiculous because, I mean, why should I even care?
He and I are in the world’s most fucked-up relationship. He hasn’t called me since he left in a huff the other night, and the sick thing is, I don’t expect him to.
It’s like I’m becoming accustomed to dysfunction and am now even expecting it.
I’ll give us another couple of weeks, and then I have to decide where we go from here.
Nothing is ever easy, is it?
Thursday morning I stretch for my run. “Morning, Carol,” I call.
“Good morning, dear.” Carol smiles as she walks across the street toward me. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
Henley’s front door opens, and he walks out. He glances up and sees us. His step falters a little. My heart somersaults in my chest. Fuck it. I hate that just the sight of him makes my heart race.
Why does he affect me so?
He waves and puts his head down.
Is he going to come over?
I watch as he walks around and gets into his car. And then, without making eye contact, he gives a quick wave as he drives past us down the road.
My heart sinks.
I get the feeling that it’s not going to be okay between us.
I need to work out how I’m going to fix us, but then what if he’s too far broken and will never be fixed?
Maybe there is nothing to fix. Maybe this connection we have is all in my head.
No.
I’m not imagining it. I know I’m not.
In fact, the only thing I do know for certain is the way that he makes me feel. It’s real and raw, an earth-shattering addiction that I’ve never felt before.
And no matter how self-destructive I know that this is, I need to follow it through and see where it goes.
I want to try.
I take a long last look at myself in the mirror, wearing my green scrubs, with my hair in a high ponytail. I’m trying my very best to be hot nurse porn.
It’s Thursday night, and without one single word from Henley, I’m taking matters into my own hands.
He better take the bait.
“Okay, this is it. I’m offering him an olive branch, and if he doesn’t take it, then poof to him.” I look down to my trusty little best friend. “Wish me luck, Bazza.” I bounce downstairs and grab the key off the counter and head over to Henley’s house.