Chapter 46
Henry
The X-ray takes forever. Once the doctor confirms a fracture, we accompany Olly back to the ER to be fitted for a cast. His pain meds kick in, making him tired and grumpy.
I amuse him with funny animal videos as he’s being treated.
Carly gets called back to work. I text Venus to meet us in the ER, but she doesn’t respond.
Mom and Fred rush in as the nurse dictates our instructions—rest, hydration, and keeping the head wound clean as we watch for any further signs of distress like headaches and nausea.
The next twenty-four hours might as well be a waiting game to get to the finish line of “he’s fine.
” But I feel confident that he’s okay. The nurse leaves with a promise to return with the final paperwork.
Fred dumps snacks on the bed and pops the top on a soda. Olly gulps the rare treat and rips open the gummy bears.
“Where’s Venus?” I ask.
Mom forces an awkward smile for Olly’s sake, but her brow pinches. “She left.”
“Left?” I repeat dully.
“You know how she is.” She tilts her head, transmitting weak sympathy through her stare. “She handed over the snacks and said she had to go.”
Olly decapitates a gummy bear. “What? Why?”
Mom wedges herself on the bed’s edge with a shrug. “It’s a mystery.”
Fred scratches his messy hair. “She seemed upset.”
A sinking, desperate feeling rises in my gut as I duck out of the curtained room. “I’ll be back.”
The double doors slide open as I rush toward them. I step into the bright sun and scan the parking lot for the Jeep. When I don’t see it, I call her.
No answer.
I call again.
No answer.
After a string of pleading texts, she doesn’t reply, and I’m still texting when Fred, Mom, and Olly appear through the doors.
“We’re all done,” Fred announces genially. “Everything okay, Henry?”
“No, she’s not answering.” My head spins with disbelief and confusion. Did she really leave us here? After everything? I replay our last conversation—she seemed alright, though perhaps a little unsettled by everything that happened. Who wouldn’t be?
“Good thing we’re here, since you need a ride home,” Mom says snidely.
Her cold remark irks me. “Did something happen? Did you say something, Mom?”
Her hands raise in defense. “She was upset before we got there.”
“That’s true, and she couldn’t tell us why.” Fred’s hand lands on my back. “Don’t worry about it, Henry. She’s got your Jeep. She won’t get far.”
“Let’s go back to our house for ice cream, huh?” Mom says, expertly changing the subject. “Ice cream always helps me feel better.”
“Yeah,” Olly answers weakly. His green cast makes his arm look twice the size. Judging by the gray bands under his eyes, he’s exhausted. I need to get him home, so we can begin his recovery where we’re most comfortable.
But I need to see Venus.
“Can I have Rocky Road?” Olly asks.
“That can be arranged,” Fred says, slipping an arm around me. “We’ll watch Olly while you find out what’s going on. How’s that?”
I nod, though my lungs constrict with the resurrection of familiar pains, like old wounds reopened and freshly gushing.
She wouldn’t leave us without a reason. Maybe she just got scared—seeing Olly like that scared me, too.
Whatever has happened, I want to be there for her, helping her through it.
I plan to take the path to the fairy house, talk to Vee, pack up our gear, and get my Jeep while Mom and Fred watch Olly.
But my plan unravels like a pulled thread when we reach the driveway. The Jeep is already here, loaded with our gear.
“Dang, Venus must’ve moved like lightning to do all that so fast,” Fred says. “Kind of her, though.”
I exit the car as soon as it’s in park, and go to mine. The keys sit on the front seat. I open the trunk and find our supplies neatly packed and organized. She didn’t do this on impulse.
“Shit, this is bad,” I mumble under my breath. I’m crushed with fears—me showing up at the fairy house to find her gone, my calls and texts going unanswered, and her father eventually explaining that my sunflower prefers her life as a cactus, that it’s easier, that I only made her feel trapped.
“Come on, Olly. Let’s find your backup pair of glasses,” Fred says. “They’re probably in the junk drawer next to the ketchup packets.”
“I’ll grab the ice cream,” Mom says, following behind them.
“Mom?”
She turns on the first step while Fred and Olly disappear inside.
“Did you say something to her?” I ask again.
Her arms fold, and her shoulders sag. Her brow scrunches with regret. “Um, she was already upset, Henry… but I’m sorry, it just came out.”
“What came out?”
“I said… I knew something like this would happen.”
“You knew this would happen? She felt terrible about Olly, and you made her feel worse?” I snap, anger surging inside me.
“You’re so grief-stricken about Jay, so worried that you pushed him away.
But you’re doing the same thing to Venus.
If you make me choose between you and Venus, I’ll pick her every fucking time. ”
Her feet shuffle backward as she stares, stunned and near tears over my harshness. Her hand trembles as she brings it to her mouth. “Henry…”
“I have to go.” I wave a dismissive hand toward her and race around the fence line.
I don’t stop running until the rear deck of the fairy house comes into view.
Buster yaps at the sliding glass doors as I approach.
It’s a relief, knowing that Venus wouldn’t shirk her pet-sitting responsibilities. She must be here.
Knocking doesn’t produce her, though. I move to the front and spot the Land Rover in the drive. I ring the bell.
No answer.
I consider climbing the trellis to the upper deck and Venus’s bedroom, like I did when we were teens. The broken slat reminds me that I’m not a teenager anymore, and falling off her trellis wouldn’t help anything.
Buster barks and bounces at the sliding glass doors. I try the handle, and it slides open.
“Venus!” I call into the silence. I traverse the stairs, calling her name.
I don’t find her, but bags are strewn on her bed—one open suitcase and a heavy-duty backpack, half-packed. Piles of t-shirts, shorts, and cargo pants lie beside the open luggage.
In the open closet, her new wardrobe hangs neatly, but her dresses, skirts, and blouses are pushed back with her prom dress, as if she doesn’t need them anymore.
She’s leaving them behind. Leaving us behind.
But, she hasn’t left yet.