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)
She nods, holding my hand back as the two of us come to terms with the weight of where we came from.
I’m so glad both of us got out.
With a final hug, we climb out of the car and slam both of our doors, and I head for the house. I expect Norah to be following me, but she heads straight for the Civic and opens the door, ready to climb in.
“What are you doing?” I call toward her. “You’re going somewhere?”
“Yep. To Bennett’s house. Wish me luck.”
She doesn’t even have to tell me why. She’s going to tell him that she’s pregnant. My chest tightens.
“You don’t need luck, babe,” I say with an honest shake of my head. “You’ve got Summer.”
Norah doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. Instead, she pulls Summer’s pink sunglasses out of her purse and slides them on her face.
A moment later, she’s in my old Civic, driving toward an absolution that, for me, will never come.
By the time she’s out of the driveway and on the main road, tears fall in unchecked rivers down my cheeks.
For what is. For what was. For what should’ve been.
Instead of waiting to find the most perfect moment to tell Bennett she’s pregnant, she’s going right now. She’s doing exactly what I wish I would’ve done all those years ago.
Maybe we wouldn’t have been arguing that night after Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe we would’ve never gotten in that accident. Maybe our baby would’ve lived, I would’ve stayed, and we’d be together with a whole brood of kids by now.
Maybe, just maybe, everything would be different.
Before The Moment: Part 7
The Final Push
49
Josie
Friday, December 2nd
I grab two bottles of water from Clay’s fridge and carry them into the living room where he sits on the sofa with his legs propped up on the coffee table. “Make sure you stay hydrated, okay?” I say as I set the water down beside his feet.
I’m exhausted, emotionally spent, and taking my days exactly one minute at a time, but now that Clay’s out of the woods, we’re at least making do.
He was discharged from the hospital a few days ago and is improving by the day. Dr. Sarens was happy with his progress and even took the conservative route and had him stay an extra three nights just to be sure his body was recovering from the trauma of the accident and the surgery.
I honestly think Dr. Sarens would have kept him another two nights, but Clay was pretty much climbing the walls. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he secretly bribed Dr. Sarens with cold hard cash to discharge him.
I’m still bleeding and cramping, but I’m trying like hell to let it all go. I know losing a baby isn’t something you just get over, but I’ll be damned if I’m going right back to where I was before the accident.
I can’t. I won’t.
“Okay, you’ve got your water. You’ve got some bananas and snacks. You’ve got your remote and your phone,” I rattle off everything I’ve made sure is within arm’s reach of the couch. “Do you need anything else before I head to work?”
“Jose, I’m good,” Clay says and makes a show of getting up and holding out both arms. “See?” He smiles and even does a little jig with his feet. But I don’t miss the slight grimace that finds its way to his lips or the fact that he stops his impromptu dance. “All good.”
“How about you slow your roll, cowboy?” I retort and walk over to him to fluff the pillows on the couch, the spot where he just resided. “Dr. Sarens said you’d need to take it easy over the next week. Your body is still healing. So, sit your ass back down and relax.” I place both hands on his shoulders. “Please.”
He leans forward and kisses me. He tries to rev up the kiss into a passionate clash of lips and tongues, but I only allow it for a short time before I disengage and eye him with a knowing stare.
“Sit down. Relax. Let your body heal.”
“You know,” he says, still not sitting down and smiling at me in that mischievous way that only Clay can do. “I forgot to tell you that I have a fear of bandages.” He waggles his brows. “So, the next time I gotta change this fucker on my stomach, I think I’m going to need a little help facing that fear.”
I roll my eyes. “Clay.”
“What?” He holds up both hands. His smile is a perfect replica of the Cheshire Cat. “You’ve always been so good at helping me face my fears. Remember the water tower?”
I force a smile to my face that I don’t quite feel, but I’m trying. I still haven’t told Clay about the baby—don’t know how I’ll ever tell him—but for right now, I just want to focus on him and us. I figure if I’m helping him rest and heal, maybe it’ll help me too. “If I find out that you left here to drive around town or hear from anyone that you’re downstairs tending bar, I will make you regret it. So, you better be on your best behavior and stay put.”