Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
“I’m two years off medication.”
Regret throttles through my chest. “Penny—”
“Penny! You’re here!” Suddenly, she’s wrapped up in Lily’s arms, and they’re jumping up and down, hugging each other like they’re in high school again and not twenty-two years old. I swallow back the words that were edging up my throat.
All that matters is the silly happy dance in front of me. Lily’s smile is beaming like a thousand-watt bulb. And Penny—the slow close of her eyes, the grip of her arms around my daughter, the contented sigh that she’s home. Loved and adored. It’s all that really matters.
As a father and a long-lost lover, I can take a back seat.
I’m a distracted mess at dinner; way too tempted to order a few shots of whiskey to drown Penny out of my head. But I’ve tried that before, and it didn’t work. Nothing does. Instead, I binge on cheesy garlic breadsticks, chewing ferociously, barely listening to Jillian, who, no doubt, is writing my behavior off as being a moody artist.
Funny how bad behavior is acceptable when you’re some kind of creative character. I’m constantly using it as a get-out-of-jail-free card.
“Do you want to come back to my place and unwind? You seem a little wired,” Jillian asks on the sidewalk after dinner.
I’ve been single too long to know what unwinding might get me into.
“Thanks, but I need to get home. We have family company…”
Jillian gives me an unoffended nod. “Are you sure you’re okay, Alex? Should I be worried?” A line appears between her eyebrows while she scrutinizes me under the moth-riddled streetlight.
“I’m not falling off the wagon.”
“Good to hear.” We walk across the dim lot until we reach our cars parked next to each other. “Everything else alright?”
“Everything’s great. Just thinking about work.” I tap the side of my head. “Too many ideas, too little time.”
“That’s what I want to hear. I’m here if you need to talk.” She opens her car door. “Thanks for dinner, think about the offer.” I nod at her over the roof of her car. “I’ll be in touch.”
I sit in my car until she pulls away. My dashboard clock glows. Nine thirty—too early to go home. Brian will be asleep by now and the girls will still be awake—sitting on the couch, eating ice cream or cookies, babbling about clothes, boys, and life.
Boys. As wrong as it is, I can’t stop myself from wondering if Penny has a boyfriend. My guess is the answer is no. She wouldn’t be here alone across the country, indefinitely, if she were dating someone.
To burn time, I drive around and end up parking on the side of the road where the accident happened. If it were daylight, I’d be able to see the two pieces of guard rails that are a slightly different color than the others. I’d also get out of my car, hop the rails, and climb down the steep slope to sit on the rock our car landed against. My frequent visits here are morbid, but grief is twisted like that. It takes a permanent seat in your soul, luring you to seek places of closeness to the one you lost. Their grave. Their urn. Their place of death.
It’s totally normal, they say.
But the truth is, I never feel close to Brianna in any of the usual places.
My heart knows she’s not there. That’s the thing with hearts; they can’t be fooled or lied to. They always know the truth, and they always know where they belong.
It’s close to one a.m. when I pull into the driveway. The lights in the house are off, except for the two small Tiffany-style lamps Bri put in the bedroom and living room windows years ago. I never turn those off.
The night is warm and clear; the sky dotted with stars like paint splattered on velvet. I follow the solar lights glowing at the edge of the path through the woods. Even in the dark, the shape of her is visible sitting on the end of the dock, staring out at the lake.
Exactly where I knew she’d be, no matter how long I avoided coming home.
Wordlessly, I sit next to her and hang my legs over the edge of the aged wood. My eyes close as I inhale her perfume, infused with the scent of bittersweet memories, midnight whispers, and sleepless nights.
“You’re not supposed to be out here alone at night,” I remind her.
“I knew I wouldn’t be alone long.”
I hate and love how well we know each other.
“Where’s Lily?” I ask.
“Don’t worry, Alex. She’s asleep.”
Tension crackles in the air. The faint lapping sound of the water against the pier and the symphony of crickets fill the silence between us. After a few minutes, she reaches out and fingers the lapel of my blazer.
“You look nice. Were you on a date?”