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“Why?” he asks.
I feel Gwen’s forehead press against my bicep. Grit my teeth. A prickling hive of anger washes through me. I don’t even know at whom. Myself.
I’m still not over this. Doc says I will be. But I’m still mad, for now. At me.
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. “Didn’t think I’d see her there.”
“But Gwen said her feelings didn’t really change.”
I raise my right hand to my forehead, rub; I stretch my fingers to my temples and press down. “Well, I didn’t know that,” I say into my hand.
I’m going to fuck this up.
I think of Breck. And Gwen. If the movie is made, Brian, one of the writers who helped the author of End of Day turn it into a script, will have some pull with who gets cast as Gwenna. It could even be her.
I let my gaze wander to her face. She smiles sadly. I smile back.
Another deep breath, more a sigh, and I force my gaze back to Brian’s. “Because I hadn’t seen her,” I tell him evenly. “After my confession that night, her getting upset, I called her friend Jamie and like Gwen said, they came back here. I thought my friends were there to kill me when they found me in the woods. I wasn’t…” In my right mind.
Brian nods.
“Remember,” I say sharply, “that part has to pass review. The part about my friends.”
“I know.” He smiles. “In this business, I’m well-versed in the NDA, and yours was ironclad.”
Gwen’s nails stroke my arm. I have to work to keep my eyes from sagging shut.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
“This is sensitive material. I understand that. And it’s hard to talk about.”
“I was surprised to see her,” I say, going back to what he asked. “I didn’t know she… Damn.” I shut my eyes and grab a deep breath.
“It’s okay,” Gwen murmurs.
I shake my head. I need to spit it out. Quit hedging. Even if my voice cracks. Which it does when I say, “I didn’t realize she would still…want me.”
“And love you,” she whispers.
I wipe my eyes, then stroke her hair. “I was surprised,” I repeat quietly.
“Just as long as you aren’t in the future.” She kisses my arm, and I try to bring the emotion level down while Brian asks more questions about the weeks after I woke up.
Gwenna finds a way to keep things light and teasing, joking with Brian that she had to wipe my ass. When my face heats up and I swat at her, she cackles.
I grab the recorder. “That’s a damn lie. Nobody loses that much muscle in a month. I was walking around in a couple of days. Not far, and Piglet held my hand.” I give her a tender smile.
“We’re hand-holders.”
“And your hand worked? The left one?”
I nod. “Not perfect, but yeah. More than it did.” I flex it for Brian. “I broke a rib back there: the second one from the top, here on the left side. The nerves to this hand were never damaged beyond repair, they just had pressure on them. That’s how they explained it to me. Something about that rib breaking gave the nerve more room to breathe.”
I put my hand down, and Gwen laces her fingers through mine.
She ends up helping me describe our coming home, on tax day, as it were. “We both filed for extensions.” She smiles.
“So tell me what you’re doing now.”
