But she didn’t know. She didn’t know that I had decided to go to Boulder for her.
She didn’t know.
And Mom called her, but still…she didn’t know. Mom said I wanted to see her, but she…
God…
The memory rushes in again. Of that last time with her.
I didn’t want to give her a choice. Not then. Every nerve in me screamed to take her fast, to erase the world in a flurry of hard thrusts and gasping breaths. That was how we’d been before. So quick, so desperate, like we were stealing something forbidden.
But that last time I slowed down.
I wanted to lose myself. To bury everything—the guilt, the rage, the ghost of Ralph Normandy—in her body. But instead, I held back. I gave her slow. I gave her more than I’ve ever given anyone.
And I think that’s when she broke me.
“Henry?” Aunt Mel’s voice draws me back.
“She didn’t come,” I say for the umpteenth time. “She stayed in Boulder. And I can’t even hate her for it. Because I respect her too damned much for it.”
Aunt Mel leans forward. “So maybe the real question isn’t whether she chose you this time. Maybe it’s whether you’ll still be standing when she’s ready to choose again.”
Her words slice clean through me.
I don’t answer. I just stare at my hands, remembering the way Tabitha’s skin felt under them, how soft she was, how she clung to me.
And I wonder if hope is enough to get me through.
Fifteen
Tabitha
Angie.
Of course it is.
She should be somewhere in Switzerland right now, Jason’s hand at her back, a glass of something with alcohol in her other hand. Not calling me from her honeymoon.
Her name glows bright, almost accusing.
I swipe. “Angie?”
“Tabs.” Her voice snaps, but there’s a wobble under it. “Why didn’t you call me?”
My stomach tightens. “About what?”
“Don’t,” she says too fast. A breath shudders through the line. “Mom told me. About Henry. The beam. The surgery. The whole thing. I mean, she told me he’d had a slight accident and everything was fine, but she didn’t go into detail until now. And you knew. You didn’t call.”
I lean into the counter. “I didn’t know at first,” I say. “I wasn’t there. I’d already left for Boulder.”
“The seminar,” she says flatly. “Right. Why didn’t you tell me you got in?”
“Well…because you were on your honeymoon.” Duh. Do I have to draw a picture for her?
“I’m happy you got in.” But her voice doesn’t sound happy.
“Eli got a spot too.”
