Page 118 of The Lovely Return


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“Alex!” Penny shrieks and bolts upright on the stretcher as the EMT climbs in with her. “Please don’t let me go!”

My heart cracks. “I’m going with her,” I say. “Let me just get my coat—”

“No,” Lily grabs my arm. “It’s better if I go. I’m her best friend. I know everything about her. I’ll call her parents on the way.”

I stare at the ambulance with cold fear coursing through my blood. I can still hear Penny’s cries as the EMTs lean over her. “Lily, she needs me. I can’t just let her go, she’s scared. She—”

“Dad.” Her eyes narrow in on my neck, then to the front of my shirt. “I think it’s best if you stay here,” she says firmly. “You should take the puppy inside and get cleaned up. It’s late. I’ll take care of Penny.”

I can’t read her face. I can’t tell if she knows something was going on between me and Penny, or if she’s just trying to calm me down.

“I’ll call you,” she says as she gets into the ambulance.

Gutted, I stand in the driveway and watch the ambulance drive off with the two most important people in my life. Again. Minutes pass before I force myself to go back to the studio. Numb, I stare around the room—at the stool I was sitting on earlier—lost in Penny and dreaming of new beginnings. At the blanket where we laughed and ate heart-shaped sandwiches, at her favorite spot on my workbench.

Also Brianna’s favorite spot.

Could it be possible?

A chilly breeze whispers over my skin and threads through my hair.

I rub my arms. No. It’s not possible. People don’t come back, no matter how bad we want them to, no matter how much we wish for them, no matter how much it hurts. The hand of death closes a door and locks it forever.

I grab Shadow’s leash and take him inside. In the bathroom mirror, I see what Lily saw. Lipstick on my face and neck. Smeared on the front of my shirt.

Fuck.

After a quick shower, I replay every moment, every word Penny and I shared today. I have no idea what the hell went wrong. Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t. Could Penny really have had a mental breakdown? Does it happen that fast, without warning?

If she isn’t suffering from some kind of delusion, then what happened? Is she jealous of Brianna? Did she think I’d love her more if she managed to convince me that she’s really my dead wife?

That’s absolutely insane.

How could she know so many intimate, private things about me and Brianna? I suppose she could’ve found an old diary of Brianna’s somewhere in the house. Her things are everywhere—in drawers and closets, just as she left them.

I can’t make any fucking sense out of this.

Kelley would tell me this is what I get for getting involved with an eighteen-year-old girl. He’d tell me her emotions aren’t fully developed yet. How she’s unable to handle a serious relationship, especially with a widower. I can literally hear his voice in my head. But I don’t think age has anything to do with this.

I know Penny. She’s not a liar, or a manipulator. She doesn’t exaggerate or create drama for attention. Her tears, and the devastation I saw in her eyes and heard in her voice earlier were real. The fear and emotional frustration coursing through her were real. And as confused as I am right now, I know Penny cares about me. She would never, ever play with my heart or dig up my grief. That much I know for sure.

The sound of my phone jolts me abruptly out of my thoughts. It’s Lily.

“How is she?” I ask immediately. “Is she alright?”

“They sedated her, and they’re running tests. MRI, CT scan, EKG. The whole gamut.”

“Shit. I don’t know what happened, Lil. I’m so fucking worried about her.”

“I know,” she says, and again, I have to wonder if she knows Penny and I are more than friends. I’m sure she saw the lipstick all over me, and she knows Penny doesn’t normally wear sexy outfits—especially out to the barn to help me or to work on her paintings. “I called her parents, they’re jumping on the next flight out. I also called Aunt Kirsty, she’s on her way here to sit with me.”

“I can be there in fifteen—”

“I think it’s best if you don’t come. The doctors won’t let you see her. They won’t even let me in her room right now. She’s really confused. For some crazy reason, she keeps saying Mom’s name. Do you have any idea why?”

“No. I’m just as confused as you are.”

“I think seeing you might make her worse. I hope she doesn’t have a brain tumor. Her behavior for the past year has been really odd. The headaches, the dizziness, random conversations, now these hallucinations…”

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