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I lie through gritted teeth. “I’m glad.”
Even though it’s his sister, and she’s the closest thing to a real sister that I’ve ever had, it’s not fair for me to unload on her. But no one who knew both of us ever got to hear my side. How it felt when I got that call. When he broke the news and effectively shattered my heart. I want to know if I was a blubbering fool, if I imagined it all. If my mom was right, that he was being a nice guy and taking pity on me because that’s what he is, a great fucking guy.
“Jenna, you have no idea, do you?” Savannah’s voice cuts through the painful memories.
My stomach clenches at the tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you know he moved back? My parents wanted to downsize, move into a condo, so they put the house up for sale. He ended up buying it.”
Fuck. I thought he stayed somewhere down south, I certainly didn’t think he’d move back, that he would ever be living again in his childhood home. The first real home I ever had—the house we briefly shared together. It’s painful to imagine him there with another woman, a kid or two running around their feet.
I wonder if she feels as comforted by those walls as I did. Or if she talked him into pulling up that pale pink shag carpet that runs along the staircase—it screams 1982 but is still so soft and plush when you walk barefoot on it because his mom was a maniac about keeping it clean.
He’s here. He’s in the city. Even though it’s a city of three million people, I feel the urge to run. I don’t think I could survive it. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being at the drugstore, comparing prices on boxes of tampons only to hear him laugh an aisle over as he teases his wife for taking ten minutes to decide which type of deodorant to try.
I need to leave, I think, abruptly standing up and pulling off my zip-up fleece. I’m sweating, my heart rising to pound in the back of my throat as I contemplate my getaway. I need to leave this room, this hospital, this fucking state. I could pick up a travel gig and be a thousand miles away before the end of the week.
“Oh wow . . . I didn’t know that. But good for them.”
I open my mouth again to offer a cliche goodbye and apologize for having to run when she reaches to tug at my wrist.
“There’s nothem. There hasn’t been athemin a long time.” She tugs at my wrist once more to pull me closer to the side of the bed. “I know what happened hurt you. He knows how he hurt you. But it isn’t what you think.”
“What do you mean there’s nothem?” I blurt out, taking a seat again at the side of the bed. “What thefuckdid she do to him?”
Savannah starts to laugh and lurches forward but instantly freezes and grabs at her stomach. “Oh god, don’t make me laugh.” She grips the patient button that’s attached to her PCA pump and pushes firmly, the machine humming as it administers an additional dose of pain medication. “It’s a good sign that after everything that happened, somewhere deep down inside, you still think fondly of him even if you don’t want to.”
BecauseI know him.At least I thought I did. I know his heart, and if he makes a promise to take care of someone, that isn’t a promise he breaks lightly.
She rolls her head to the side, eyes glazing over with the pain medications now fully in her system. “He’s been trying for years to find you, but it’s like you vanished,” she whispers. “You’re still all he talks about.”
I try to tell myself it’s the pain medications in her system, that she’s in a lucid dream and mumbling nonsense because the thought that he’s single, living here, and trying to get in touch with me is almost too much to bear.
“It’s . . .” she starts but stops when Brantley enters the room with a cup of fresh water.
I take it from his hand and offer it to her, watching her take a long sip from the straw through dried lips.
“It’s okay, Nanners, get some sleep, we can talk about this later.” It’s a bald-faced lie, because after tonight I’m off for three days, and she will most likely be discharged to a step-down unit or back home before I return to work.
Even if Emmett is divorced, and back in the city, and maybe there is some truth that he has been trying to get in touch with me, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that he chose someone else, promised his life to her and left me shattered. For whatever reason, it seems things didn’t work out between them, but I refuse to be someone’s second choice.
Savannah’s eyelids flutter for a few moments before falling shut and her breathing evens out. Now that her pain is controlled and no longer keeping her awake, her body can give into the exhaustion.
I stand, smoothing out the blankets over her waist and legs. Squeezing her forearm once more, I whisper “Goodbye,” then turn to leave the room.
“Jenna,” she mumbles, eyes still shut, “he’d do anything for a chance to prove himself, if you’ll let him.”
Chapter Seven
Four Years Earlier
Idoubt that there is a single person in this world—not a sane one anyway—that enjoys attending a funeral. But there may be a select few who can tolerate them, who see the event as a final celebration of that person, their loved ones gathering to recall the best memories, and the love they had to offer. Those people can see the purpose of the event and find some semblance of peacefulness in saying goodbye in this way.
I’m not one of those people.
I also never would have expected my first funeral to be my mom’s.
