Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
My feelings for Hayden remained almost overwhelming whenever my heart and mind grew weak and let memories of him escape. There was no sign of them diminishing, but I kept telling myself it would happen. Surely, thoughts of him would fade and weaken and I wouldn’t have to try so hard to keep them at bay.
“That’s weird. This one’s to Michael,” I said, pulling out a thick cream envelope from the pile. Most of the letters and applications I’d made had been in my father’s name as next of kin. One or two had been in mine, but I hadn’t made any in my brother’s name.
“Can I open it, Michael?” I asked.
He shrugged, focused on his food rather than his mail, and I grinned and blew him a kiss. I flipped the envelope over and worked my thumb under the flap.
No check, but it was two pages long. I flipped to the second page to see an application with boxes and dotted lines sprinkled down the page. They were asking for bank account details and addresses. That was weird.
I turned back to the first page, glancing to the headed notepaper. Lycan Foundation. I couldn’t remember writing to them, but I must have sent off four hundred applications, so it was perfectly possible that I had just forgotten.
I read it once all the way through and then paused. I must have read it incorrectly. They were offering to pay Michael’s physical therapy, for a full-time caregiver and for any health insurance premiums.
That couldn’t be right. My pulse began to throb in my ears and I started again from the top.
“I want you to eat something,” my dad said. His voice sounded tinny and far away.
“Hang on, Dad,” I said, pressing the letter flat against the table and tracing the lines of typed text with my finger. I needed to read more carefully. I had to subdue the fluttering in my gut that was squealing that this letter was a winning lottery ticket.
I’d been wrong. It wasn’t what I thought. It wasn’t just Michael’s physical therapy, a full-time caregiver and insurance premiums they wanted to pay. It was “all and any costs associated with Michael’s medical or occupational needs for the rest of Michael’s life.”
Surely I had this wrong? This would mean that if Michael needed other things as he got older or as my father got older, this charity was going to cover it. I flipped over the page. This couldn’t be happening.
I stood, vaguely aware of my chair falling back behind me.
“Avery, sit and eat something. Please,” my dad said.
“Hang on a minute. I just need to check something.” When had I contacted these people?
I grabbed the laptop, brought up my spreadsheet of applications I’d made, but I couldn’t find anything.
I typed it into Google. Nothing came up.
Was this a scam? Would anyone be so cruel?
“Daddy, did you apply to any charities? Or did anyone we know do that?” For a flash I wondered if my mother had had something to do with it but of course she wouldn’t have. We didn’t exist to her anymore.
“No, Avery, you know how I feel about that. It’s hard enough seeing you do it but I tell myself it’s for Michael. But I don’t like to . . .”
I turned back to the computer and searched Google again. “You ever heard of the Lycan Foundation?”
My dad chuckled, and my heart thudded against my ribcage. Was this a joke? “Lycan? Is this Dungeons and Dragons or something?”
“What are you talking about?” I held up the letter. “This charity is saying they’ll pay Michael’s medical bills. All of them. Forever. But I don’t remember applying to a Lycan Foundation.”
My dad froze. “All of his medical bills?”
“Yes! Do you know who they are?”
He shrugged, his brows drawn together as he strode over, took the paper from my hands and read the letter himself. “Lycan is . . . I don’t know. It was the name for a werewolf, I thought, but I guess it’s just a surname.”
Werewolf? Memories of Hayden burst through my mental barriers. It couldn’t be him, right? He had no idea where we lived or that I’d applied for anything. I’d never told him that Michael’s medical insurance had been changed and that his physical therapy had been cut. And he hated me. He thought I was a liar and a thief. Of course it wasn’t him. I shook my head.
“Call them.” My dad handed me back the letter. “There’s a number on the letterhead.”
I scrambled to pick up the phone. I had to confirm what they were offering was real. I punched in the numbers, chewing on the inside of my mouth.
“Lycan Foundation, Alyson speaking.”
I took a deep breath and explained why I was calling.
“Yes, that’s right,” Alyson said as I relayed the contents of the letter. “You just need to fill in all the details. It might take thirty days for us to organize all the payments, but we’ll back pay from the date of the letter.”