Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
It’s so sweet, but also…so cheap. Right in line with what I know of my grandma’s dear friend Melba, and the thought warms my body from my heart to my lips to my eyes. Some things, I suppose, stay the same even in the wake of a whirlwind of change.
Maybe one day, it won’t feel this hard at all. Maybe one day, I’ll feel whole again.
9
Clay
Tuesday, April 11th
The whole town is here, supporting Josie in her coffee shop’s big debut, and I feel like a schmuck standing in the background when all I want to do is be the man at her side.
Watching Josie move on with her life so completely is indescribably difficult. It’s not that I don’t want good things for her…I do. I just want her to have all the good things she deserves and still be with me, too. And standing here on the fringe of CAFFEINE’s opening, a useless extra in her story, feels downright sadistic.
Yet here I am, like a heartbroken fool, staring toward the only woman I want to be with but who doesn’t want to be with me.
“What time is your appointment?” I ask Bennett, trying to distract myself from the absolute burning rage and anguish I feel poisoning my veins.
“In about an hour and a half. We’ll probably take off here in a minute,” Bennett answers, and I nod, turning back to look at the front of CAFFEINE again. My focus goes straight to Josie’s warm smile through the open door. Seeing her look at Pete that way and knowing she’ll never do it while she looks at me again makes me rub at the pressure in my chest. Bennett’s eyes are narrowed when I turn back toward him. “You know, Clay, I think you should probably take off too.”
“I’m fine,” I say, my jaw locked.
Bennett laughs in my face, the bastard. “You look ready to spit bullets. Put yourself out of your misery and go home. Or anywhere else. Just leave here.”
I take a deep breath and refocus my energy. Away from Josie and back to Bennett and Summer and the most important things in front of us—her hard road with Osteogenesis Imperfecta Type III and supporting my best friend and his daughter in all the ways that I can. “So, what exactly did Dr. Brock say? You’re going to have to keep doing this all the time?”
“Yeah,” Bennett answers, swiveling Summer around in her stroller and handing her another plushie. Most of the time now, it’s safer for her delicate bones if she only plays with soft toys. She smiles a toothy grin up at us, and I fall a little more in love with her. “He said the best way to be proactive is to have Summer do monthly scans. We went ahead and booked a standing appointment for the second Tuesday of every month. We can change it if we need to, obviously, but that way, we’re staying on top of any new breaks she might have gotten every month.”
“And, what? That’s it? You don’t do any other treatments or anything?” I question, my mind still trying to understand how this beautiful, vibrant little girl has been dealt such a shit hand. The instant Bennett told me about her diagnosis when he first came to Red Bridge, I spent hours and days researching it all on Google. Most people know it as brittle bone disease, and unfortunately for sweet Summer, she has one of the most advanced cases of it.
Honestly, with the innovations in medicine and technology, it rattles my fucking skull that all her treatment plan revolves around is being proactive. Surely there should be a damn cure by now.
“I guess it’ll be a take it as it comes kind of thing.” Bennett shrugs, his jaw working furiously to keep himself in check.
Summer’s pain is his pain. And even though she’s just about the happiest little girl you’ll ever meet, her daily struggles and limitations are challenging. She’ll never be a normal kid. She’ll never get to play at the playground or be on a sports team. Her life revolves around being as cautious as possible.
“He says we can brace and cast where appropriate, but one of our best weapons is just handling her with care to try to prevent the breaks in the first place,” Bennett adds, and I clap a gentle hand to his shoulder and squeeze. There’s nothing else I can say, you know? All I can do is be there for him and Summer as much as I can.
“Daddy! Go!” Summer exclaims and claps her hands. Her little pink cast knocks her plushie onto the ground, and Bennett picks it up and hands it back to her.
“We’re going to go in just a minute, baby,” he says and gently brushes his hand against her cheek, his eyes warming in a way they only do for his daughter.