Page 113 of The False Flat

“Penelope.”

My head jerked toward my mother, whose existence I’d forgotten until she said my name.

She folded her lips into her mouth as her eyes filled, but she said nothing else. And I didn’t waste any more time.

Phoneless and shoeless, I drove to Deanna’s.

CHAPTER 44

LIFE REALIZATION #19: COLD CHERRY PIE IS THE BEST DINNER EVER

Rain threatened to plant me in William and Deanna’s lawn as I ran down their sidewalk barefooted to their front door. My fist banged on the wood. Just when I’d started climbing into the bushes to peer into a window, the door opened. William. His eyes took in my appearance, the rumpled, half-soaked dress, my hair—oh, my hair. My makeup was likely still clinging to my face, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t care that people knew I was a mess inside and out. Something else mattered more.

Grant mattered more.

I peeked around William. “Is Grant here?”

“No, he—”

“Pen.” Deanna pushed around William with her arms out, but as soon as we embraced, she stiffened.

I pulled back and scanned her wide-eyed expression, her features tense, a mix of hurt and incomprehension.

“You . . . you left him. I just don’t understand.”

“I’ll go get a towel,” William said and then exited the room.

As Deanna’s eyes filled, so did mine. I hadn’t been thinking about her and what she must’ve been feeling. She had to know.

I couldn’t stop my lips from quivering. “You picked him up?”

“How could you leave him stranded like that? He kept trying to tell me that it was a lot for you to take in, given all you’d been through, but what about what all he’s been through, Pen?” She stomped away from me. “It’s not always about you!”

Her elevation in tone made me jump.

She spun toward me. “Your reaction hurt him, but he won’t admit it because he loves you. Last night when I picked him up from Opryland, he wouldn’t tell me what was going on until he made sure you were okay. Then he told me he needed to go to Chuck’s cabin to sort through all that was happening to him, but I know he was doing it for you, to give you space to decide whether you wanted to be with someone who was dying.” The last word was bitter and broke her. She flopped down on her couch and cradled her head in her hands. “And I had to hold it all in because I didn’t want my feelings to be one more thing he had to worry about. But I can’t—” She broke off on a squeak.

The silence that lingered after Deanna had stopped talking squeezed in, like a corset laced too tight. The pressure kept me from moving right away, but when air finally reentered my lungs, I slid forward and onto the couch next to Deanna, fully expecting her to shove me away.

I inched my arms around her, waited, and when she didn’t stop me, I fully embraced her, and she collapsed against me.

Then, we cried together.

I’d done a permanent thing, an unforgivable thing. I’d done the worst thing I could imagine doing. I’d left him. And I wanted to wallow in my own self-deprecation, but I shoved it aside, my current mission overshadowing everything else.

We clung to each other on Deanna’s couch as William draped a towel over me. Once I’d collected myself enough to speak, my voice sounded odd, like I was in a tunnel.

“He told me, and then I didn’t remember what happened after that. I . . . I think I must’ve blacked out.”

She pulled away from me, wiping her face as she caught her breath. “He said he told you and that you stood there, staring into the distance; then you took off, ran out of the hotel. When he realized he couldn’t catch you because he was in pain, he called me.” Her anger had drained away, and her voice sounded small.

And that was when it hit me, full in the face: Deanna was me. She’d been given horrible news about her brother, and she was trying her best to process it on her own.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed too hard. She had no reason to forgive me, but I was going to try. “I need you to know that I’m in love with your brother. I don’t know how to explain last night. Telling you I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to explain what I am, and there’s no excuse but that I wasn’t fully in control. But, if he’ll have me, if you’ll have me, I want to be there for him. And for you.”

Her eyes filled again. “He needs you.” She paused, her body shaking slightly as she pointed to herself. “I need you.”

William stepped up to us. “We need each other.”